BANCROFT    LIBIt^^vKf 


EVENTFUL 

NARRATIVES, 

THE  THIRTEENTH  BOOK   0¥  THE 

FAITH-PROMOTING  SERIES, 


Designed  for  the  Instruction  and  Encouragement  of 
Young  Latter-day  Saints. 


JUVENILE    INSIRUCTOR    OFFICE, 
Salt  Lake  City,  Utah. 

1887. 


f?35" 


ls*< 


Bancroft  LibrarjF 

§j  PREFACE. 


t 


H 


Oo 


IT  affords  us  much  pleasure  to  be  able  to  present  to  the  pub- 
li, 


lie  the  Thirteenth  Book  of  the  Faith-Promoting  Series. 
^  The  favor  shown  these  little  publications  by  both  old  and 
^  young  among  the  Latter-day  Saints  encourages  us  in  the  belief 
that  they  are  read  with  interest,  and,  we  trust,  with  profit. 
The  principal  object  in  issuing  them  has  been  and  is  to  increase 
faith  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  peruse  them,  by  showing  how 
miraculously  Grod  has  overruled  everything  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  try  to  serve  Him. 

If,  by  our  efforts,  faith  can  be  implanted  or  increased  in  the 
hearts  of  any  we  will  certainly  feel  that  our  labors  have  not 
been  in  vain. 

We  trust  this  little  work  will  find  its  way  into  many  homes 
'  and  afford  pleasure  and  instruction  to  all  who  read  it. 

The  Publishers* 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/eventfulnarrativOOjuverich 


CONTENTS. 


LEAVING  HOME. 
CHAPTER  I. 

Birth-place — Parentage — William  H.  Scott — An  Interview 
with  a  Baptist  Minister— A  Testimony  to  the  Truth  of 
"Mormonism."  Page  9. 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  First  Latter-day  Saint  Meeting— William  H.  Scott  has 
an  Interview  with  my  Mother — She  Forbids  me  Having 
Anything  to  do  with  the  "Mormons."  Page  13, 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  Companion — How  I  Saved  my  Emigration  Money — A.n 
Important  Letter  from  America.  Page  16. 

CHAPTER  lY. 

Richard  and  Myself  Determine  to  Emigrate  with  the  Saints 
—Receive  Baptism— The  Notification  Papers— First 
Attempt  to  Leave  Home.  Page  19. 

CHAPTER   Y. 

Arrival  at  Sunderland — On  the  Steamer  "General  Havelock" 
— In  London— On  Board  the  "American  Congress'* — 
Unpleasant  News— A  Meeting  of  the  Saints — An  Awful 
Surprise — "IWantYouI" — Taken  Prisoners.  Page  22. 

CHAPTER  YI. 

The  Scene  in  the  Cabin— One  of  the  Saints  Defends  us  and  is 
Threatened— John  Nicholson,  President  of  the  Com- 
pany, Comes  Forward— The  Parting  Scene— Good-by  to 
the  Saints— Taken  to  the  Thames  Police  Office— Trying 
to  get  the  Passage  Money— Locked  in  the  Cell.  Page  25. 


Vr  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

How  the  Time  was  Spent  in  the  Cell— A  True  Testimony— 
An  Officer  from  Middlesbrough— Handcuffed— Leave 
London— Arrival  at  Middlesbrough— The  Police  Office. 

Page  28. 

CHAPTER  VIIL 

In  the  Cell— A  Visit  from  Richard's  Father  and  my  Mother 
—The  Trial— The  Decision  of  the  Court— A  Few  Words 
of  Explanation.  Page  30. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A  Clipping  from  the  "Middlesbrough  News"— A  Promise 
Made  but  Not  Fulfilled— The  Second  Attempt  to  Leave 
Home.  Page  33. 

CHAPTER   X. 

Planning  to  Leave  Home  a  Third  Time— Leave  Middles- 
brough— Arrival  at  Newcastle— Leith,  Edinburgh  and 
Glasgow — A  Pecuilar  Situation:  No  M^ney,  No  Friends 
— Make  up  my  Mind  to  go  to  New  York — Arrival  at 
Liverpool.  Page  37. 

CHAPTER  XL 

Arrival  at  Queenstown— In  Suspense — '^It's  only  a  Runaway 
Boy  they're  After" — Arrival  at  New  York — A  Proposi- 
tion Accepted.  Page  40. 

CHAPTER  XIL 

Leave  New  York — A  rrival  at  Wyoming — Incidents  on  the 
Plains.  Page  42. 

CHAPTER  XIIL 

Arrival  in  the  *'City  of  the  Saints"— Keeping  "Bach"— My 
Parents  Join  the  Church — They  Emigrate  to  Utah.  Page  44. 

CHAPTK^  XIV. 

My  Parents  in  Zion — Arrival  of  Richard  Sedgwick  in  Salt 
Lake  City — His  Story  of  Leaving  Home  in  1867 — How 
the  President  of  the  Middlesbrough  Branch  was  Emi- 
grated—Re-union  of  the  Middlesbrough  Branch.      Page  46. 


CONTENTS.  Vlt 


A  BOY'S  love:  a  MAN'S  DEVOTION. 

CHAPTER  I. 

William  Anderson's  Heart  and  Hand— His  Early  Life,  Home 
and  Surroundings.  Page  49. 

CHAPTER  IT. 

Boyhood  Sports—  An  Amateur  Militia— A  Campaign  Inci- 
dent— Will  Anderson's  Gallantry — Christmas  Morning 
Greeting— The  Afternoon  Service— A  Combat  Among 
the  Boys.  Page  55. 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Progress  of  the  Age— Will  Anderson's  Courtship— The 
Christmas  Sermon.  Page  65. 

CHPTER  IV. 

William  Anderson's  Marriage  and  Journey  Westward — He 
and  his  Wife  hear  the  Gospel — Visit  Nauvoo— Gather 
with  the  Saints— The  Battle  of  Nauvoo.  Page  08. 

A  TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Description  of  the  Route— Object  of  the  Journey— Confront- 
ed by  Indians — Discovery  of  Rubies — More  Indians  Visitj 
Camp— An  Inspired  Suggestion— The  Indians  Become 
Friendly.  Page  77. 

CHAPTER  II. 

Indians'  Stratagem  to  get  one  of  our  Horses— Proceed  on 
our  Way— How  Inspiration  is  Received — An  Illustrative 
Incident.  Page  82. 

CHAPTER  III. 
Out^of  Provisions — Live  on  Horse  Flesh — Arrival  at  Carson 
— Start  back  for  Home— Description   of  the  Journey — 
Aided  by  Red  Men— Meet  with  more  Indians— Our  man- 
ner of  Dealing  with  them.  Page .85. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Premonitions  of  Danger — Learn  of  an  Attempt  to  Kill  us — 
An  Indian's  Advice — Undecided  about  what  Course  to 
take — Appeal  to  the  Lord— Prayer  Answered— Reach 
Home  in  Safety.  Page  93. 


LEAVING  HOME. 


By   Robert  Aveaon. 


CHxVPTER  T. 


BiRiH-PLACE— Parentage— William  H.  Scott— An  In- 
terview WITH  A  Baptist  Minister— A  Testimony  to 
THE  Truth  op  "Mormonism." 

The  writer,  the  second  son  of  Thcmas  and  Ann  Ave- 
son,  was  barn  in  the  town  of  Bradford,  Yorkshire,  England, 
on  August  22nd,  J  1^47. 

My  father  was  an  honest,  hard-working  man;  he  was  not  a 
believer  in  any  particular  religion.  My  mother  was  more  relig- 
iously inclined;  her  maiden  name  was  Fawcett.  Both  my 
father  and  mother  were  strict  in  training  their  family,  which 
consisted  oF  nine  children  (seven  sons  and  two  daugh- 
ters), five  of  whom  are  now  dead. 

In  the  early  part  of  18G0  we  removed  from  Bradford  to 
Malton,  in  Yoikshire,  staying  there  only  about  six  weeks,  and 
tlien  wnt  to  reside  at  Middlesbrough,  Yorkshire,  a  very 
pretty  town  at  that  time.  We  arrived  there  February  29th, 
1860 

On  the  11th  of  February,  1862,  I  was  engaged  to  work  at 
Mr.  Joseph  Grould' splinting  office  in  Middlesbrough.  My  wages 
were  three  shillings  per  week.  Mr.  Gould  was  a  printer  him- 
self and  did  most  of  the  work.    He  had  only  one  other  employe 


10  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

working  for  bim,  and  that  was  a  boy  named  Eicbard  Sedgwick, 
tbrougb  wbom  I  procured  my  situation,  and  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  bad  made  a  few  months  previously. 

On  the  5th  of  the  following  May  I  was  bound  apprentice  to 
Mr.  Gould.  After  I  signed  the  indenture,  Mr.  Brown,  one  of 
the  witnesses  to  it,  said  to  me: 

"There,  my  boy,  you  have  tied  a  knot  with  your  band  which 
you  can't  unloose  with  your  tongue." 

The  indenture  stated  that  my  wages  should  be  three  shil- 
bngs  and  sixpence  per  week  the  first  year,  with  a  yearly  raise 
of  one  shilling  per  week  until  I  bad  served  my  time,  which  was 
seven  years. 

About  a  week  after  this,  a  young  man,  named  William 
Henry  Scott,  was  engaged  to  work  for  Mr.  Gould,  and  shortly 
afterwards  was  bouad  apprentice  to  bim  for  three  years.  Mr. 
Scott  was  from  Seaham  Harbor,  county  of  Durham,  where 
bis  parents  and  their  family  resided. 

The  following  August,  Richard  Sedgwick  left  Mr.  Gould's 
employ  and  went  to  work  for  a  Mr.  Thomas  Carter,  picture- 
fra  ue  maker,  and  was  afterwards  bound  apprentice  to  bim. 

William  H.  Scott  was  a  fine,  courteous  young  man,  to  wbom 
1  became  very  much  attached.  He  had  resided  in  Middles- 
brough only  a  short  time  when  bis  brother  John  wrote  to 
bim  from  Seaham  Harbor,  stating  that  his  mother  and  him- 
selt  bad  become  members  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of 
Lutter-day  Saints,  and  earnestly  desired  William  to  investigate 
tiie  principles  and  doctrines  of  that  Church.  He  told  bis 
bro  her  to  go  to  a  man  named  Anderson,  who  was  a  Latter- 
d  ty  Saint  and  a  resident  of  Middlesbrough. 

Notwithstanding  William  had  recently  become  identified 
With  the  Methodists,  be  went,  according  to  request,  snd  had 
an  interview  with  Brother  Anderson  regarding  this  new  religion; 
and  becoming  convinced  of  the  truth  of  "Mormonism,"  was 
baptized  a  memb3r  of  the  Church. 

Brother  W.  H.  Scott  became  a  useful  member  of  what  was 
then  known  as  the  Middlesbrough  and  Stockton  branch.  We 
often  conversed  together  on  the  first  principles  of  the  latter- 
day  gospel. 


LEAVING  HOME.  11 

y __^... , — 

At  this  time  (the  Summer  of  1862)  I  was  feeling  more 
religiously  inclined  than  I  had  ever  before.  One  reason  for 
this,  probably,  was  because  a  religious  revival  was  in  progress. 
The  Wesleyans,  Primitive  Methodists  and  other  religious  sects 
were  very  energetic  and  obtained  many  converts. 

About  a  year  and  a  half  previously  my  mother  had  become 
a  member  of  the  Wesleyan  Reformers,  and^I  had  told  her  that 
I  did  not  think  it  would  be  long  before  I  should  join  one  of 
the  religious  sects. 

I  was  a  regular  attendant  at  a  Baptist  "chapel  and  Sunday 
school,  and  firmly  believed  that  the  principles  and  doctrines 
promulgated  by  the  Baptists  were  nearer  like  those  the  Savior 
taught  than  were  set  forth  by  any  other  religious  denomina- 
tion I  was  acquainted  with,  and  my  mind  was  fully  made  up 
to  identify  myself  with  that  body. 

One  Summer  evening  in  18G2,  I  attended  a  Baptist  prayer 
meeting  with  the  firm  intention  of  becoming  converted  to  their 
faith  and  afterwards  applying  for  baptism.  I  was  under  the 
impression  that  they  made  converts  in  the  same  way  the  Meth- 
odists did,  but  found  I  was  mistaken. 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting  I  spoke  to  one  of  the  members, 
and  asked  him  why  they  did  not  make  converts  at  their  prayer 
meetings.  lie  said  that  was  not  their  mode  of  receiving 
members;  he  told  me  that  when  he  joined  the  Baptists  he 
prayed  to  his  Heavenly  Father  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins, 
and  after  doing  so  he  felt  an  inward  feeling  of  happiness, 
which  proved  to  him  that  his  sins  were  forgiven;  he  ^aid  after 
informing  his  minister  to  that  effect  he  was  baptized.  The 
young  man  asked  me  to  see  the  minister.  I  did  as  he  wished 
me,  and  the  minister  appointed  the  following  Saturday  even- 
ing for  an  interview  with  him. 

According  to  promise,  I  went  to  his  house  at  the  appointed 
time  and  was  invited  into  the  parlor.  The  minister's  name 
was  William  Bontems.  He  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  good 
man.  We  were  alone  in  the  parlor  and  conversed  together  for 
quite  a  while.  He  told  me  I  must  pray  to  the  Lord  and  get 
forgiveness  of  my  sins,  and  then  I  could  receive  baptism. 
Another  appointment  was  made  for  me  to  see  him  in  one 
week  from  that  day. 


12  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

I  went  home,  thioking  seriously  over  the  matter.  That 
night  I  retired  to  rest  a  little  earlier  than  usual.  As  soon  as  I 
entered  my  bed-room  I  prayed  most  fervently  and  humbly  to 
my  Heavenly  Father,  asking  Him  to  forgive  my  sins 
and  to  produce  that  happy  feeling  within  my  bosom  which 
others  realized  before  receiving  baptism.  I  spent  about 
fifteen  minutes,  at  least,  in  prayer  but  experienced  no  happy 
feeling  whatever. 

Next  evening  I  again  engaged  in  secret  prayer,  but  realized 
no  benefit.  I  tried  this  for  a  week,  with  no  marked  effect. 
At  the  end  of  the  week  I  again  went  to  the  minister:  told 
him  I  had  prayed  every  night,  but  found  no  relief;  and  asked 
him  if  he  could  not  pray  for  me.     He  replied: 

*'If  all  the  ministers  in  the  world  were  to  pray  for  you  they 
could  not  save  you." 

After  further  conversation  he  requested  me  to  continue  my 
prayers,  believing  the  Lord  would  answer.  I  did  as  he  told 
me  several  nights  more,  but  without  success. 

As  soon  as  William  H.  Scott  was  identified  with  the  Latter- 
day  Saints  he  became  a  zealous  and  energetic  member,  and 
was  desirous  that  all  those  whom  he  was  acquainted  with 
should  embrace  the  gospel.  Working  together  in  the  same 
establishment — in  the  same  room— we  had  a  good  opportunity 
to  converse  upon  any  topic  that  presented  itself  I  told  Wil- 
liam concerning  my  interviews  with  the  Baptist  minister,  and 
that  I  had  been  praying  nightly  to  the  Lord  to  obtain  forgiveness 
of  my  sins,  but,  seemingly,  without  effect. 

William  listened  attentively  and  eagerly  to  my  story.  He 
had  wished,  hoped  and  even  prayed  that  I  should  be  con- 
vinced of  the  latter  day  gospel.  But  1  told  him  I  could  not 
see  clearly  into  the  principles  taught  by  the  Latter-day  Saints. 

One  evening  shortly  after  this  (the  early  part  of  August,  I 
think)  feeling  as  if  my  continued  prayers  for  a  newness  of  heart 
were  in  vain,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  try  once  more,  and  if  I  experi- 
enced no  difference,  would  give  up  the  idea  of  becoming 
identified  with  the  Baptists  and  would  try  the  ''Mormons." 

That  sam3  morning  while  at  work,  William  conversed  with 
me  again  on  the  principles  advocated  by  the  Latter-day  Saints, 
and  smilingly  said: 


LEA  VING  HOME.  13 

"You'll  have  to  join  the  'Mormons.'  " 

While  conversing]  with  him  I  experienced  a  heavenly  feel- 
ing; a  mist  cameover  me;'J  felt  within'me  an  jnfluence^I  had 
never  before  realized.  The  principles  and  doctrines  of  the 
latter-day  gospel  came  clearly  before  me.  The  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  was  with  me,'and  I  received^  testimony  of  the. truths  of 
"Mormonism'' — a  testimony  which  [I  shall  never  forget.  I 
was  supremely  happy,  rfjoicing  wi  h  ''joy  unspeakable."  I 
told  William  I  was  ready  ibr  baptism  and  asked  him  to  intro- 
duce me  to  the  Saints  the  next  Sunday. 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  First  Latter-day  Saint  Meeting — William  H.  Scott 
HAS  AN  Interview  with  my  Mother— She  Forbids 
Me  Having  Anything  to  do  with  the  '"Mormons." 

It  was  on  the  Sunday  following  when  I  attended  the  first 
Latter-day  Saint  meeting,  having  received  permission  ,to  do 
so  from  my  parents.  That  morning  I  went  as  usual  to  'the 
Baptist  Sunday  school,  but  did  not  enjoy  myself  as  much  as 
heretofore.  This  I  attributed  to  my  lack  of  faith  in  their 
doctrines.  Knowing  "Mormonism"  to  be  true,  I  could  gain 
no  satisfactionTrom  any'other  source. 

The  place  T^here  the  Latter-day  Saint  meeting  was  to  be 
held  was  at  a  small  village  Cilled  Eston,  about  four  miles  from 
Midilesbrough.  ^  Our  company^left  town  for^that  place  about 
1  o'clock  p.m.,  and  consisted  of  William  Littlefiir, 'president 
of  the  Middlesbrough  and  Stockton  branch,  Thomas  Watson, 
secretary  of  the  branch,  WilliamJJ.  Scott  and.myself  ^Itwas 
one  of  the  happiest^'afternoons  Lever  spent.  ^We^were  soon 
out  of  town,  tripping  along  through  lovely  green  fields  bedecked 
with  flowers'  of  various  kinds.  Being  very  much  interested 
in  the  conversation  of  President  Littlefair  and  the  other  breth- 


14  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

ren — of  course  it  was  mostly  pertaining  to  the  gospel — the 
time  passed  away  quickly  and  we  soon  arrived  at  Eston,  where 
the  meeting  was  to  be  held  at  the  house  of  a  sister  named 
Fewstcr. 

The  uieetmg  was  opened  with  an  appropriate  hymn,  then 
prayer  by  one  of  the  brethren.  The  sacrament  was  admin- 
istered, and  the  hymn  commencing, 

"O,  God,  the  Eternal  Father, 
Who  dwells  amid  the  sky," 

was  sung. 

The  time  was  mostly  occupied  by  President  Littlcfair.  As  this 
was  the  first  meeting  attended  by  me  and  the  firat  time  I  had 
heard  the  gospel  preached  1  liatened  attentively  to  the  words 
of  the  speakers. 

After  meeting  we  partook  of  tea  with  Sister  Fewster,  during 
which  we  enjoyed  a  pleasant,  sociable  chat.  Then  we  returned 
homeward,  arriving  in  Middlesbrough  about  6  o'clock  in  the 
cven'ng. 

While  penniog  this  brief  narrative  I  cannot  help  reflecting 
upon  the  present  time.  Passing  along  to  my  Sunday  meetings 
I  often  see  a  number  of  boys,  about  my  age  at  that  time,  and 
some  older  ones,  loitering  about  the  streets,  breaking  the  Sab- 
bath, neglecting  to  attend  worship,  and  many  who  never  even 
visit  Sunday  school  They  have  not  the  love  for  their 
religion,  ^vhich  filled  my  heart  at  their  age.  These  remarks 
apply  not  only  to  the  young,  but  also  to  others  more  advanced 
in  years,  who  often  neglect  their  meetings,  excusing  them- 
selves on  one  frivolous  pretext  or  another. 

WilUam  II.  Scott  told  President  Littlefair  that  1  desired 
baptism.  The  president  said  as  I  was  under  age  that  rite  could 
not  be  administered  to  me.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to  first 
obtain  permission  from  my  parents.  Thinking  the  best  way 
to  get  their  consent  would  be  for  William  to  talk  to  my  mother 
on  the  subject  of  '^Mormonism,"  I  arranged  an  interview  with 
her.  Accordingly,  William  went  and  conversed  with  her  on 
the  first  principles  of  the  gospel.  It  was  on  a  Thursday  night. 
She  was  interested  and  listened  attentively  to  the  teachings  of 
the  young  preacher,  for  he  was  but  a  young  man,  seventeen 


LEA  VING  HOME.  '.  15 


years  of  age.  At  the  close  of  the  interview  it  was  agreed  upon 
that  in  a  week's  time  he  should  pay  her  another  visit.  The 
appointment  was  promptly  kept,  and  at  i's  clo3e  William 
gained  my  mother's  consent  to  my  baptism.  The  next  night, 
Friday,  my  father,  on  being  consulted,  said  he  was  willing  for 
me  to  do  as  I  pleased. 

As  everything  seemed  to  be  working  in  my  favor,  I  sought 
my  mother's  consent,  before  retiring  to  rest  on  Saturday  night, 
to  attend  another  meeting  of  the  Saints,  which  was  to  be  held 
in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day.  Judge  of  my  surprise  on 
being  told  by  her  that  she  did  not  wish  me  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  so  deluded  a  people,  giving  them  a  bad  name 
and  saying: 

"I  would  rather  btiry  you  in  the  churchyard  than  kave  you 
join  the  Mormons." 

Too  full  of  grief  to  make  any  reply  to  her  remarks,  with 
droopiDg  head  and  achiog  heart  I  slowly  went  upstairs  to  my 
bed  chamber  and  there  knelt  and  prayed  humb'y  and  fervently 
to  my  Heavenly  Father,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  my 
cheeks. 

Restlessly  I  lay  upon  my  bed.  "i  would  rather  bury  you  in 
the  churchyard  than  have  you  join  the  Mormons."  Oh,  how 
these  words  rang  in  my  ears!  I  had  never  been  so  tried  before 
in  my  life.  The  knowledge  that  "Mormonism"  was  true  was 
firm  in  my  heart,  for  I  had  received  a  testimony  and  was  very 
anxious  to  get  baptized;  but  my  hopes  now  were  blighted. 
What  course  should  I  pursue?  I  was  young— just  approach- 
ing my  fifteenth  birthday— and  still  under  the  control  of  my 
parents,  whom  I  desired  to  obey  in  all  things.  But  could  I 
give  up  "Mormonism"  and  deny  the  testimony  I  had  received? 
No,  the  Lord  helpiog  me,  I  would  never  do  that. 

Then,  again,  my  temporal  position  weighed  upon  my  heart. 
I  had  recently  been  apprenticed  in  the  printing  business  for 
seven  ^years;  and  the  laws  of  the  country  compelled  me  to 
ser.e  cut  this  time. 

And  thus  query  after  query  arose  in"[my  mind  for  some 
length  of  time,  until  at' last,  tired  out,  sleep  closed  my  eye- 
lids. 


16  E VENTFUL  NARRA  TIVES. 

Instead  of  going'to' Sunday  school  on  the  following  morning 
I  went  to  see  W.  H.  Scott  and  related  to  him  what  had  Itrans- 
pired.     He  sympathized  with  me  in  my  trouUcd  stat3. 
advice  to  me  was: 

I ; It  afterwards  came'^  to  my^  knowledge  that  my'mother  had 
been  making  inquiries  of  her  minister  and  members  of  the 
Wesley  an  Reformers''in  regard  to  what  kind  of  people  the 
* 'Mormons"  were  and  what,  was  their  belief;  and  the  false 
statements  she  received  in  reply  accounted  for  the  unkind 
answer  she  gave  me. 

I  went  to  the  Latter-day  Saints'  meeting  whenever  oppor- 
tunity offered,  but  was  very  cautious  not  to  inform  my  par- 
ents. 

Sometimes  I  attended  meetings  at  Eston  and  Stockton  (both 
places  being  about  four  miles  from  home)  as  well  as  at  Mid- 
dlesbrough. 

I  soon  lefc  my  former  Sunday  school  and  tegan  attend- 
ing another  of  the  same  persuasion,  but  differing  on  some 
pouts  |of  doctrine.  Then  I  attended  the  Unitarian  school, 
wlitre  their  exercises  partook  of  a  secular  as  well  as  of  a  relig- 
ious nature.  From  there  I  went  to  the  Wesleyans;  but  wher- 
ever I  roamed  no  true  spiritual  enjoyment  could  be  found  as 
at  the  meetings  of  the  Latter-day  Saints. 


CHAPTER  III. 


A  GoMPANiON~How  I  Saved  >iy  .Emigration  Money— 
An  Important  Letter  From  America. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  Sedgwick  family,  which  had  been 
interrupted  as  related  in  a  previous  chapter,  was  again  renewed 
in  the  Summer  of  1863.  From  that  time  the  fr'endship'exist- 
ing  between  Richard,  and  mj^self  was  of  the  most  intimate 


LEA  VING  HOME.  17 


character.  It  was  not  long  before  the  subject  of  "Mormon- 
ism"  was  broached  to  Richard,  and  he  was  soon  convinced  of 
the  truth  of  the  latter-day  gospel.  Being  also  under  age  he 
was  placed  in  the  same  condition  as  mjself— neither  of  uscculd 
avail  ourselves  of  the  ordinance  of  baptism. 

Like  the  rest  of  the  Saints,  afier  embracing  the  gospel,  the 
spirit  of  gathering  came  strongly  upon  us,  and  we  felt  desirous 
of  emigrating  at  some  future  day  to  the  land  of  Zion.  In 
order  to  do  this,  it  became  necessary  fur  Richard  and  myself 
to  obtain  means  for  that  purpose. 

About  the  latter  part  of  1862,  my  employer,  Mr.  Joseph 
Gould,  purchased  a  weekly  newspaper,  called  the  Mddles- 
hrough  News,  It  was  printed  on  Thursday  nights,  and  neces- 
sitated my  working  most  of  that  night  every  week.  The  money 
obtained  by  overwork  enabled  me  to  make  deposits  in  the 
Perpetual  Emigration  Fund,  the  first  instalment  hieing  eleven 
shillings.     This  was  on  December  15,  1863. 

The  recollection  of  the  first  night's  work  is  still  fresh  in  my 
memory:  It  was  till  half-past  5  o'clock  in  the  morning,  for 
which  I  received  one  shilling.  Just  think  of  it,  boys!  For 
ten  hours'  work  I  received  twenty- four  cents — all  in  cash! 
Would  you  not  think  "hard  times" '  had  come  again  if  you 
had  to  labor  so  long  for  such  a  small  amount,  especially  if  you 
were  endeavoring  to  save  means  to  emigrate?  From  this  time 
my  employer  agreed  to  pay  me  three  halfpence  an  hour — three 
cents.  Shortly  after  it  was  raised  to  twopence  (four  cents); 
then  to  threepence  (six  cents).  The  latter  was  the  highest 
amount  received  by  me  for  overwork. 

Besides  the  money  earned  by  overwork,  I  had  a  little  pocket 
money  given  me  out  of  my  weekly  wages.  My  mother  was 
not  aware  that  I  devoted  these  means  for  emigration  purposes, 
but  had  an  idea  I  had  some  money  saved  up.  It  was  the  usual 
custom  to  go  to  town  on  Saturday  evenings,  and  she  believed  a 
portion  of  my  gains  was  spent  there.  In  this  she  judged 
wrongly. 

My  companion,  Richard,  was  working  for  Mr.  Carter,  the 
picture-frame  maker.  He,  like  myself,  was  saving  money  for 
the  same  purpose.     lie  put  away  most  of  what  he  received 


18  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 

from  his  parents  as  pocket  money,  and  sometimes  earned  a 
little  by  overwork. 

From  the  time  my  mother  forbade  my  associating  with  the 
* 'Mormons"  till  the  Spring  of  1866  (three  years)  was  an 
unpleasant  period  of  my  life.  It  is  true  the  meetings  of  the 
Saints  were  times  of  refieshing  to  me,  for  I  loved  my  religion; 
but  the  fear  that  my  parents  would  discover  my  attachment 
to  the  Latter-day  Saints  was  ever  a  source  of  dread.  My  homo 
was  no  longer  a  home  to  me.  Disobedience  to  my  mother's 
wishes  was  ever  a  sore  affliction. 

Whenever  there  was  an  opportunity  for  my  companion  and 
myself  to  attend  a  Latter-day  Saint  meeting,  we  v^iu  so;  but 
when  we  had  not  that  privilege,  if  the  weather  was  fine,  we 
visited  the  cemetery,  the  docks,  or  other  places  of  interest  in 
Middlesbrough  and  vicinity.  These  were  days  which  will  not 
easily  be  forgotten. 

In  the  early  part  of  February,  1866,  my  mother  received  a 
letter  from  America,  which  stated  that  some  of  her  relatives 
were  desirous  our  family  should  come  to  reside  with  them,  and 
intimated  they  would  send  our  passage  money  to  cross  the 
ocean. 

This  was  good  news  to  my  mother,  as  she  was  very  anxious, 
and  had  been  for  some  time,  to  go  to  that  land.  She  was  the 
only  one  of  her  father's  family  remaining  in  England,  the  rest 
having  previously  emigrated. 

There  was  one  thing  which  prevented  our  family  from  emi- 
grating: I  had  three  more  years  of  my  apprentice :hip  to 
serve.  In  an  interview  between  Mr.  Gould  and  my  mother 
respecting  canceling  my  indentures,  he  declined  doing  so. 
Under  these  circumstances  it  was  thought  best  for  the  family 
to  remain  for  a  season. 

Poor  woman!  She  little  contemplated  that  for  the  last  three 
years  and  a  half  I  had  been  carefully  saving  means  to  emigrate 
to  Utah,  and  intended  to  leave  the  coming  Siring! 


LEA  VING  HOME.  19 


CHAPTER   lY. 


Richard  and  Myself  Determine  to  Emigrate  with  the 
Saints— Receive  Baptism— The  Notification  Papers 
— First  Attempt  to  Leave  Home. 

In  the  Spring  of  1866,  Richard  Sedgwick  and  myself  fully 
resolved  to  leave  our  homes  and  emigrate  to  Utah.  I  had 
managed  to  get  means  enough  to  take  me  to  the  frontier, 
where  the  mule  and  ox  teams  started  to  cross  the  plains  to 
Salt  Lake.  Richard  had  only  sufficient  to  take  him  to  New 
York,  where  he  expected  to  stay  awhile  and  then  proceed  to 
Utah.  The  time  for  our  departure  was  drawing  near,  and  we 
very  anxiously  looked  forward  to  it  with  great  interc  st. 

As  it  was  my  intention  to  soon  leave  for  Utah,  it  was 
decerned  advisible  by  Pre.-ident  Littlefair  that  I  should  ^et 
baptized.  Accordingly,  on  the  morning  of  March  24,  1866, 
in  the  River  Tees,  that  ordinance  was  attended  to  by  Elder 
John  Scott;  and  I  was  confirmed  by  President  Littlefair  in  the 
afternoon. 

My  parents  knew  nothing  about  it.  Nearly  every  Sunday 
morning  I  was  in  the  habit  of  going  early  for  milk  to  a  small 
village  called  Newport.  That  morning  I  proceeded  as  usual, 
taking  with  me  a  small  tin  bucket.  I  went  to  the  residence 
of  the  Scott  family  and  called  for  William  and  others  of  the 
family.  Richard  also  accompanied  us.  On  starting  out,  it 
commenced  to  rain,  but  by  the  time  we  arrived  at  the  river 
side  it  cleared  up.  About  half  a  dozen  were  present.  After 
singing  a  hymn,  prayer  was  ofiered  and  baptism  was  per- 
formed. Another  hymn  was  sung  and  we  started  homeward, 
chatting  pleasantly  together. 

Richard  was  baptized  a  few  days  later.  Arrangements 
were  made  that  William,  Richard  and  myself  should  sail  on 
the  third  ship  that  season,  the  American  Congress^  and  accord- 


20  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 


icgly  we  sent  our  deposit  money  to  secure  a  berth  on  that  ves- 
sel. Every  day  we  were  expecting  our  notification  papers, 
which  would  inform  us  what  day  the  ship  would  start.  They 
came  on  the  13th  of  May  of  that  year. 

We  held  meeting  that  day  at  Sister  Jane  Scott's,  at  whose 
house  the  meetings  were  held  from  the  time  the  Scott  family 
arrived  in  Middlesbrough,  in  1863.  Just  prior  to  the  arrival 
of  Thomas  Watson,  clerk  of  the  branch,  I  was  remarking  on 
the  heat  of  the  room.  On  his  entrj^,  William  H.  Scott  asked 
him: 

''Have  you  brought  the  Millennial  Stars?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Brother  Watson,  "and  the  notification  papers, 
too." 

As  soon  as  he  uttered  these  words  a  nervous  feeling  crept 
over  me;  I  felt  cold  and  went  to  the  fire  place  to  warm  me. 

We  held  our  usual  testimony  meeting,  and  among  those  who 
bore  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the  latter-day  work  I  was  one, 
and  while  doing  so  the  tears  trickled  down  my  cheeks. 

The  notification  papers  stated  that  the  American  Congress 
would  sail  from  London  on  the  23rd  of  May,  which  gave  us 
ten  days'  notice. 

A  day  or  two  after  this  William  H.  Scott  received  a  letter, 
stating  that  a  small  company  of  Saints  would  leave  Sunder- 
land by  steamer  on  the  next  Saturday  morning.  May  19th,  for 
London,  from  which  place  the  American  Congress  had  to  leave 
on  the  23rd  of  that  month.  We  thought  this  would  be  a  good 
opportunity  to  go  on  this  route,  as  it  was  much  cheaper  by 
this  means  than  by  rail.  To  do  this  we  would  have  to  leave 
Middlesbrough  on  the  evening  of  May  18th,  five  days  before 
the  ship  would  sail. 

We  were  in  a  rather  peculiar  situation,  and  wondered  what 
excuse  we  could  give  our  parents  and  employers  to  be  absent 
a  few  days  without  them  suspecting  our  intentions. 

To  make  matters  worse,  our  right-hand  man,  William  H. 
Scott,  received  a  letter  from  President  Brigham  Young,  Jr., 
at  Liverpool,  assigning  him  a  mission.  This  was  unpleasant 
new3  to  both  Richard  and  myself,  for  to  start  on  our  journey 
without  him  was  alm'rst  like  being  left  without  a  shepherd. 


LEA  VI NG  HOME.  21 

As  it  could  not  be  avoided,  however,  we  determined  to  make 
the  best  of  it  and  leave  on  Friday  evening,  the  18th. 

On  Wednesday  evening,  the  16th,  I  broached  the  subject 
of  being  away  two  days.  1  told  my  parents  I  wished  to  go 
with  Richard  Sedgwick  to  Hartlepool  the  following  Friday,  on 
a  visit  to  some  of  his  frienc's,  and  return  on  the  following 
Sunday  evening.  My  father  was  a  little  opposed  to  my  going, 
but  my  mother  was  favorably  inclined.  Hartlepool  was  about 
twelve  miles  from  Middlesbrough,  and  Sunderland  was  over 
forty. 

Having  secured  the  consent  of  my  parents  to  be  away  from 
home  two  days,  the  next  thing  .was  to  see  my  employer.  It  so 
happened  that  we  were  very  busy  at  the  printing  business,  and 
to  ask  for  a  holiday  would  be  almost  absurd.  We  were  bent 
on  leaving  on  the  Friday  night,  and  go  we  must.  But  what 
bothered  me  most  was  what  excuse  I  could  give  my  employer 
to  be  away.  To  tell  him  the  same  story  as  I  had  told  my 
parents  would  hardly  do,  as^  he  might  say  I  could  go  there 
some  other  time  when  we  were  not  quite  so  busy.  Finally, 
on  Thursday,  the  17th,  I  saw  Mr.  Gould  and  told  him  I  wished 
to  go  and  see  some  of  my  relatives  at  Bradford,  who  were 
going  to  remove  from  that  place  and  desired  to  ?  ee  me  before 
they  left.  I  asked  leave  of  absence  from  4  o'clock  Friday 
evening  till  Monday  morning.  Mr.  Grould  granted  my 
request. 

It  was  much  easier  for  Richard  to  get  permission  to  be  away 
a  few  days  than  it  was  for  me.  He  told  his  parents  and  his 
employer  that  he  wanted  to  go  to  Hartlepoo\  and  his  wish  was 
granted  without  any  particular  questions  being  asked. 

After  Mr.  Gould  granted  my  request  he  paid  me  my  full 
week's  wages  and  gave  me  a  shilling  for  pocket  money.  He 
was  in  the  habit  of  giving  me  sixpence  a  week  as  pocket 
money,  but  this  time  he  was  kind  enough  to  give  me  double 
the  amount.  I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness.  Mr.  Gould 
had  been  kind  to  me  ever  since  I  entered  his  employ,  and  now 
that  I  was  about  to  leave  him,  expecting  never  more  to  see 
him  again,  reflections  of  an  unpleasant  nature  crossed  my 
mind. 


22  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

On  reaching  home  I  quickly  put  on  my  Sunday  clothes  and 
was  so  an  ready  to  start,  but  became  so  confused  as  to  forget 
to  bid  the  folks  good-by.  Just  as  I  was  near  the  door,  my 
mother  said: 

"What!  are  you  going  off  without  bidding  us  good-by?  " 

I  turned  quickly  around  and  said: 

"Good-by!  Good-by!" 

They  watched  me  as  I  left  the  door.  I  hurried  on  my  jour- 
ney and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER  y. 


Arrival  at  Sunderland— On  teie  Steamer  "General 
Havelock"— In  London— On  Board  the  "American 
Congress"— Unpleasant  News— A  Meeting  of  the 
Saints— An  Awful  Surprise— "I  Want  You!"— 
Taken  Prisoners. 

I  WENT  down  to  a  steamboat  landing,  crossed  the  River 
Tees  in  a  small  steamer  and  waited  there  nearly  half  an  hour, 
when  Richard  came.  He  brought  with  him  our  box,  which 
contained  a  bed-quilt,  some  books  and  other  articles. 

On  this  side  of  the  river  was  the  Port  Clarence  railway  sta- 
tion, where,  after  securing  our  tickets,  we  took  the  train  ftr 
Sunderland. 

We  arrived  at  the  latter  place  about  7:30  p.m.  After  some 
little  trouble  we  found  President  George  J.  Linford,  who  w.-s 
s-taying  at  a  Brother  Inglefield's.  We  procured  lodgings  for 
the  night,  for  which  we  paid  fourpence  (eight  cents)  each. 

Early  next  mornirg  we  went  on  board  the  steamer 
General  Havelock.  Quite  a  number  of  Saints  (between  fifiy 
and  sixty)  embarked  en  the  steamer;  they  hailed  from  New- 
castle, Sunderland  and  other  places. 

About  8  o'clock  the  steamer  started.  It  was  pleasant  sail- 
ing.   This  was  the  first  time  we  had  been  on  sea.     Richard 


LEA  VING  HOME.  23 

and  I  enjoyed  ourselves  and  felt  very  liappy.  We  were  pleased 
to  be  away  from  home  and  soon  made  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  Saints,  finding  among  them  many  good-hcaited  peo- 
ple. We  had  some  interesting  conversation  which  helped  to 
pass  away  the  time. 

The  following  day  we  arrived  in  the  great  metrop- 
olis— London — about  half- past  2  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

During  the  forenoon  of  the  next  day  President  Linford 
informed  us  we  could  go  on  board  the  American  Con- 
gress, but  said  he  did  not  know  whether  we  could  sail  on  that 
vessel  or  not.  He  told  us  that  shortly  after  we  left  Sunder- 
land on  the  Saturday  morning,  a  telegram  came  there  from 
Brigham  Young,  Jr.,  asking  him  not  to  let  the  Saints 
start,  but  for  them  to  wait  till  the  next  ship  was  ready. 

In  the  evening  of  that  day.  President  L'.nford  went  to  Liver- 
pool to  see  Brother  Young  and  make  final  arrangements  about 
sailing. 

This  was  rather  unpleasant  news  to  Richard  and  myself,  for 
if  we  could  not  go  with  that  ship,  it  would  be  expensive  to 
wait  two  or  three  weeks  till  the  next  vessel  started;  in  fact, 
we  did  not  have  means  to  do  so.  Not  only  this,  but  we  were 
in  suspense  about  being  away,  for  wc  were  afraid  we  might  be 
captured  and  taken  back  to  our  homes. 

In  the  forenoon  of  that  day  we  went  down  to  St.  Catherine's 
Docks  and  got  on  board  the  American  Congress. 

The  next  morning  Bro.  Barker  Childs,  one  of  the  Saints 
who  sailed  with  us  from  Sunderland,  asked  me  a  rather 
curious  question.     Said  he: 

"What  would  j^ou  think  if  you  were  taken  off  the  ship?" 

I  replied:     "I  don't  know." 

Shortly  after  this,  President  Linford  came. 

"Grood  morning,"  said  Barker. 

"Good  morLing,"  responded  Linford. 

"Well,"  said  Barker,  "what's  the  news?  Have  we  to  stay 
here  or  not?" 

"You  can  go  with  this  vessel,"  replied  President  L'nford. 

This  was  good  news  to  all  of  us  who  had  sailed  from  Sun- 
derland, and  we  felt  to  rejoice  when  he  told  us. 


24  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

Late  in  the  afternron  of  Wednesday  the  jhip  was  towed 
down  the  river  to  Shadwell  Basin,  and  word  was  passed  around 
that  she  would  sail  ear  y  next  morning. 

About  7  o'clock  in  the  evening  a  meeting  of  the  Saints  was 
held  on  the  deck.  There  were  some  good,  soul-stirring  hymns 
sung,  and  addresses  were  delivered  by  Elders  John  Nicholson 
and  N.  11.  Felt. 

While  the  services  were  in  progress  quite  a  crowd  of  spec- 
tators were  viewing  us  from  the  shore,  and  among  them  was 
a  short,  stout  man,  who  gazed  intently  at  Richard  and  1. 

After  the  meeting  was  over  we  bjth  went  below  to  our 
bunk,  where  we  anxi  usly  awaited  the  morrow  to  come, 
when  we  would  be  out  on  the  ocean  bej^ond  all  danger  of  pur- 
suit. The  ship  was  well  filled  with  passengers — every  berth 
being  taken. 

Early  next  morning  we  were  up  in  good  time.  I  walked 
about  the  cabin  and  on  the  deck  with  a  feeling  of  gloom  over 
me.  1  told  Richard  of  my  foreboding  of  something  unpleasant, 
but  what  it  was  I  could  not  tell.  The  sailors  were  busy  pre- 
paring for  the  long  vo^a^e,  and  we  expected  soon  to  start. 

About  half  past  7  o'clock  I  went  off  the  ship  to  get  a  supply 
of  water.  Returning,  I  came  near  to  where  Richard  was  on 
deck,  and  said: 

"Here's  the  water;  now  let's  go  and  get  breakfast." 

No  sooner  had  I  said  these  words  than  a  noise  occurred  in 
the  gangway,  and  the  next  moment  a  voice  cried  out: 

"That's  one  of  them!  " 

I  had  hardly  time  to  turn  around  when  a  rough  hand  seized 
me  by  the  collar.     The  next  words  1  heard  were: 

"I  want  you!  " 

The  person  who  spoke  first  was  Mr.  Thomas  Carter,  R'ch- 
ard's  employer;  the  other  speaker  was  a  Lmdun  deiective, 
the  man  who  watched  us  so  closely  the  night  previous  at  the 
meeting. 

Mr.  Carter  then,  in  a  quick  tone,  enquired: 

'Where's  Richard?" 

"He  is  there,"  I  replied,  pointing  towards  him  as  he  stood 
close  by»  an  ej^e-witness  to  what  was  going  on. 


LEAVING  HOME.  25 

The  detcciive  then  seized  him  and  pulled  him  tuWaiJo  me, 
taking  from  his  breast  coat  pocket  two  summonses. 

"Robert  Aveson,"  said  he  to  me,  "Is  that  3^our  name?" 

"Yes,"  was  my  answer. 

"And  Richard  Sedgwick?" 

Richard  responded  to  his  name. 

"You  have  absconded  from  j^our  apprenticeship,"  contin- 
ued the  detective.  "You  thought  no  one  could  catch  j^ou, 
did  you?" 

I  replied,  "No." 

Mr.  Carter  then  asked  Richard  if  he  had  any  luggage,  who 
replied  in  the  negative. 

I  quickly  said,  "I  have." 

Then  we  all  went  down  into  the  cabin  together. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Tfie  Scene  in  the  Cabin— One  of  the  Saints  Defends  us 
AND  IS  Threatened— John  Nicholson,  President  of 
THE  Company,  COxAjes  Forward— The  Parting  Scene 
—Good  by  to  the  Saints— Taken  to  the  Thames 
Police  Office— Trying  to  Get  the  Passage  Money 
— Locked  in  the  Cell. 

On  making  our  appearance  in  the  cabin,  the  Saints  rushed 
up  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  in  a  few  seconds  a  large 
crowd  gathered  around.  I  jumped  up  in  our  bunk,  com- 
menced to  get  our  things  together  and  put  in  our  box  what 
articles  I  could. 

One  of  the  Saints,  named  Isaac  Sutliffe,  said  to  the  detec- 
tive: 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  these  boys?" 
The  response  came  from  the  officer  in  a  sharp  tone: 
"We're  going  to  take  them  away  with  us." 
"No  you  ain't,"  said  Sutliffe  in  an  emphatic  manner 

1^ 


26  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

jXfter  iurther  argument  the  detective  said  to  Sutliffe: 

''U  you  don't  hush  up  we'll  take  you,  too." 

At  this  juncture,  John  Nicholson,  president  of  the  com- 
pany, came  forward  and  asked  what  was  the  matter. 

The  detective  answered: 

'*We  are  goiug  to  take  these  boys  away  because  they  have 
absconded  from  their  apprenticeship." 

The  officer  then  produced  the  papers  and  showed  them  to 
Brother  Nicholson,  who,  after  reading  them,  said: 

* 'That's  all  right.  I  did  not  know  anything  about  the 
boys." 

The  officer  then  asked  for  our  passage  money.  Brother 
Nicholson  replied: 

"I  cannot  give  you  it;  but  the  boys  can  get  it  by  going  to 
President  Young's  office  at  Islington." 

Our  ship  tickets  were  then  endorsed  by  Brother  Nicholson, 
to  the  effect  that  the  passage  money  had  to  be  given  to  no  one 
but  the  boys  (Bichard  and  myself). 

Having  our  luggage  ready  for  starting  we  disposed  of  our 
ship  outfit  to  two  of  the  Saints,  the  cost  of  which  was  about 
five  shillings.  We  began  to  shake  hands  with  the  Saints, 
many  of  whom,  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  bade  us  a  sad  "good- by." 
While  thus  engaged  the  detective  seized  me  by  the  collar  and 
pulling  me  towards  the  steps,  said: 

"Come  along,  we  can't  wait  for  you!  " 

With  aching  hearts  away  we  went  with  our  box,  accompan- 
ied by  Carter  and  the  detective.  Our  destination  was  the 
Thames  Police  Office,  which  was  about  a  mile  distant.  On 
arriving  there,  Carter  and  the  detective  left  as  soon  as  they 
had  ordered  breakfast  for  us. 

There  were  two  men  in  charge  of  the  office,  who  took  quite 
an  interest  in  us  and  treated  us  very  kindly. 

Considering  all  things,  the  morning  passed  away  very  weU, 
Something  seemed  to  be  whispering  within  me,  "It's  all  for 
the  best."     I  told  Bichard  so,  and  he  said  he  felt  the  same. 

We  were  made  to  feel  worse  by  hearing  a  number  of  church 
bells  ringing  merrily,  and  upon  enquiring  the  cause  were 
informed  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the  queen's  birthday.     The 


LEA  VING  HOME.  27 

morning  seemed  a  long  one,  and  when  dinner  time  came  we 
were  provided  with  a  good  meal  of  roast  beef,  potatoes,  etc. 

In  the  early  afternoon  we  were  taken  in  a  hack  to  the  office 
of  President  B.  Young,  Jr. ,  at  Islington,  by  Mr.  Carter  and 
the  detective,  whose  object  in  taking  us  there  was  to  endeavor 
to  get  our  passage  money  and  use  it  in  paying  the  expenses  of 
taking  us  back  to  our  homes. 

As  we  approached  the  office  the  detective  asked  for  our 
ship  tickets.  I  told  him  I  would  not  give  them  up.  There 
were  three  tickets — two  to  take  us  across  the  ocean,  the  other 
to  take  me  to  Wyoming,  Nebraska. 

Again  the  officer  asked  me  for  the  tickets,  which  I  still 
refused  to  give  up.  He  said  he  would  soon  return  them  to 
me.  On  that  condition  I  handed  them  to  him  with  many  mis- 
givings. It  was  a  severe  trial  to  be  taken  back  home;  but  to 
lose  our  hard-earned  savings  as  well  we  ft  It  keenlj\ 

Arriving  at  our  destination,  inquiry  was  made  for  Brother 
Young,  but  we  were  informed  that  he  was  not  there.  We 
were  invited  in  and  told  to  wait  a  few  minutes,  when  some 
gentlemen  would  see  us;  and  soon  Elders  N.  H.  Felt,  George 
Linford  and  other  brethren  made  their  appearance. 

The  officer  then  told  them  he  wished  to  get  the  money  for 
the  ship  tickets,  whereupon  the  brethren  returned  to  another 
room  to  hold  council.  In  a  few  minutes  they  came  and  said 
that  Brigham  Young  had  gone  to  Liverpool,  but  if  the  boys 
(Richard  and  myself)  would  send  their  tickets  to  George  J. 
Linford  at  Sunderland  the  money  would  be  refunded.  We 
were  then  taken  back  to  the  police  office. 

While  on  the  way  back,  Carter  got  out  of  the  hack.  After 
he  had  gone  the  detective  drew  close  to  us  and  said  he  did  not 
want  us  to  think  any  the  less  of  him  for  the  part  he  had 
taken,  as  he  had  only  done  his  duty.  I  told  him  it  was  all 
right,  we  knew  it. 

We  arrived  at  the  police  office  between  4  and  5  o'clock  and 
shortly  afterwards  had  our  supper,  after  which  I  wrote  a  letter 
to  George  J.  Linford  and  inclosed  the  three  tickets.  Just  as 
.  it  was  finished,  one  of  the  men  in  charge  of  the  jail  said: 

*'Come,  mates,  we  must  do  our  duty;  you'll  have  to  go  into 
the  cell." 


28  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

**All  right,"  said  I,  and  then  asked  him  to  post  our  letter, 
and  he  said  he  would. 

We  were  then  escorted  into  a  cell.  Some  bed  clothes  were 
given  us  and  we  were  told  that  anyone  else  would  not  have 
been  allowed  this  privilege.  They  said  if  we  wanted  anything 
we  were  to  shout  for  it.  So  they  locked  us  up  and  went 
away. 


CHAPTER   Vir. 


How  THE  Time  was  Spent  in  toe  Cell— A  True  Testi- 
mony—An Officer  From  Middlesbrough— Hand- 
cuffed—Leave  London — Arrival  at  Middles- 
brough— The  Police  Office. 

It  was  a  small  cell  built  of  rock,  with  stationary  seats  around 
it.  In  the  middle  of  the  door  was  a  square  hole,  with  an 
extended  ledge,  where  eatables,  etc. ,  could  be  passed  through. 

All  was  quiet,  no  noise,  not  even  the  ticking  of  a  c^.ock, 
could  be  heard.  There  was  no  light  save  the  glimmer  of  the 
gas  from  the  passage  way  outside  the  cell. 

We  were  alone  and  felt  sad  and  rather  low-spirited.  We 
conversed  but  little.  I  wa'ked  up  and  down  the  cell;  Richard 
laid  down  and  tried  to  sleep.  This  was  a  hard  thing  for  him 
to  do,  as  his  thoughts  troubled  him.  Oh,  how  I  lifted  my 
heart  heavenward  and  prayed  most  fervently  to  my  Heavenly 
Father  to  comfort  us  in  our  hour  of  trial !  Presently  I  heard 
footsteps,  and  a  voice  at  the  door  asked: 

"Do  you  want  anything,  mates?  " 

I  answered,  ''No." 

Poor  fellow!  It  was  one  of  the  keepers.  They  evidently 
felt  for  us,  for  they  came  two  or  three  times  and  asked  the 
same  question.  Then  I  laid  down  and  tried  to  sleep,  but 
could  not. 


LEA  VING  HOME.  20 


We  had  been  in  the  cell  perhaps  two  hours,  when  a  heavenly 
influence  rested  upon  us.     I  said  to  Richard: 

"How  do  j^ou  feel?" 

He  replied,   "I  feel  happ5^" 

I  told  him  I  never  felt  so  happy  in  all  my  life  as  at  that 
moment,  and  remarked  I  did  not  care  how  long  we  remained 
in  the  cell  if  we  could  feel  like  that  all  the  time. 

It  was  the  holy  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  that 
rested  upon  us.  To  us  it  was  a  testimony  that  the  gospel  we 
had  embraced  was  true.  Our  minds  became  calm  and  we 
were  strengthened  in  that  hour  of  trial.  At  last  sleep  closed 
our  eyes.     Thus  ended  a  very  eventful  day  of  our  lives. 

About  half-past  5  next  morning  our  breakfast  was  handed 
to  us  through  the  small,  square  hole  in  the  door — bread  and 
butter  and  coflee.  We  tasted  the  coffee,  but  did  not  like  it; 
so  I  asked  the  keeper  to  fy'wQ  us  some  water,  which  he  did. 

About  6  o'clock,  the  cell  door  was  opened  and  there  stood 
before  us  an  officer  from  Middlesbrough,  a  gentleman  whom 
we  had  seen  before.  He  produced  a  pair  of  handcuffs  and  put 
them  on  our  wrists.  This  indignity  we  felt  most  keenly.  My 
wrists  were  so  thin  the  handcuffs  were  almost  too  large  and 
they  near  y  slipped  over  my  hand.  He  told  us  to  follow  him, 
which  we  did,  and  as  we  passed  through  the  police  office,  we 
bade  the  keepers  good-by.  Their  kindness  towards  us  is  still 
treasured  up  by  me,  and  if  ever  the  pleasure  of  meeting  them 
again  presents  itself,  it  will  be  a  source  of  happiness  to  shake 
them  by  the  hand  and  thank  them  for  past  favors. 

A  hack  was  waiting  in  front  of  the  office,  which  we  got  into 
and  started  for  the  railway  which  would  take  us  to  Middles- 
brough. 

A  little  while  after  the  train  had  started  the  handcuffs  were 
removed  from  our  wrists.  To  pass  the  time  away  we  amused 
ourselves  looking  out  of  the  car  windo^rs  and  viewing  passing 
objects  and  did  all  we  could  to  make  them  think  we  did  not 
care  for  being  taken  back  to  our  homes;  but  could  the  secrets 
of  our  bosoms  have  been  revealed,  two  aching  hearts  would 
have  been  discovered. 


80  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 

Before  the  train  reached  its  destination  the  ''bracelets  '  were 
again  placed  on  our  hands.  We  arrived  at  Middlesbrough 
about  a  quarter  to  8  in  the  evening.  Before  getting  out  of 
the  cars  we  pulled  our  coat  sleeves  over  the  handcuffs,  and  as 
soon  as  we  were  out  in  the  station,  we  swung  our  hands,  kept 
a  smile  on  our  countenances  and  were  scarcely  noticed  by  any- 
one, till  we  arrived  at  the  Middlesbrough  police  ofl&ce.  No 
sooner  had  we  entered  the  office  than  one  of  the  officers  in 
charge  inquired: 

"Are  you  the  boys  that  have  been  brought  back?" 

I  answered,  "Yes." 

lie  said,  "You  were  not  worth  bringing  back,"  which  senti- 
ment found  an  echo  in  my  own  heart. 


CHAPTER  YIII. 


In  the  Cell— a  Yisit  From  Richard's  Father  and  my 
Mother— The  Trial— The  Decision  of  the  Court— 
A  Few  Words  of  Explanation. 

We  were  soon  escorted  to  a  cell,  which  was  much  larger  and 
colder  than  the  one  we  occupied  the  night  previous.  The 
handcuffs  taken  off,  the  door  closed  upon  us,  and  with  sad 
hearts  we  sat  down  upon  a  bed  of  straw. 

We  had  been  in  the  cell  but  a  few  minutes  when  Richard's 
father  came  with  some  supper  for  his  son.  How  sad  he  looked 
as  he  entered  the  cell — a  father's  love  for  his  boy  was  clearly 
manifest.  He  did  not  say  much,  but  looked  hard  at  me,  as 
though  he  blamed  me  for  leading  him  from  home.  Of  course 
I  was  a  few  months  older  than  Richard,  but  he  was  taller  and 
stouter  than  I,  and  to  look  at  us  it  would  hardly  appear  reason- 
able that  I  should  have  power  to  lead  him  away.  Mr.  Sedg- 
wick only  stayed  a  few  moments. 

The  supper  was  soon  spread.  Richard,  poor  fellow,  could 
not  eat,  but  I  did  justice  to  my  share.     We  then  laid  down 


LEA  VING  HOME,  31 

and  tried  to  sleep,  but  what  with  the  mice  and  other  small  vis- 
itors, and  thinking  of  our  peculiar  situation,  we  had  little 
sleep  that  night,  and  were  not  sorry  when  daylight  came. 

About  8  o'clock  the  next  morning  my  mother  entered  the 
cell  with  some  breakfast  for  me.  She  did  not  say  much  but 
evidently  felt  for  me.  It  was  principally  through  her  we  had 
been  brought  back.  Though  one  of  the  prime  movers  in  our 
capture,  she  was  hadrly  to  blame,  for  she  believed  it  was  her 
duty  to  do  what  she  had  done.  So  many  tales  had  been  told 
her  concerning  Utah  and  the  "Mormons"  that  she  felt  pos- 
itive there  must  be  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  them. 

About  half-past  10  o'clock  we  were  escorted  into  a  room 
where  an  officer  took  a  description  of  us — color  of  our  hair, 
eyes,  complexion,  our  height,  etc.  Shortly  afterwards  we  were 
taken  into  the  court  room  and  had  our  trial  before  Judge  Fal- 
lows. Besides  the  judge  and  several  policemen,  our  employ- 
ers, Richard's  father  and  my  mother  were  there. 

The  judge  asked  a  few  questions  and  then  inquired  what  we 
had  to  say  for  ourselves.     I  immediately  arose  and  said: 

"What  I  have  to  say  for  myself  is  this:  The  room  I  work  in 
is  not  a  fit  place,  as  it  is  a  cold,  damp  cellar." 

Mr.  Gould  denied  this  statement. 

The  judge  then  asked  Richard  what  he  had  to  say  for  himself. 
He  replied  that  his  reason  for  absconding  was  because  we  were 
such  close  companions,  and  when  I  ran  away  he  followed  me. 
One  of  the  police  said  to  me: 

"You're  the  leader,  then,  are  you?" 

We  were  then  asked  by  the  judge  whether  we  would  serve 
the  remainder  of  our  apprenticeship  in  jail,  or  go  back  and 
Work  for  our  employers.     We  chose  the  latter  alternative. 

He  then  inquired  of  Mr.  Carter  what  our  expenses  were 
and  the  amount  of  our  passage  money.  On  being  informed, 
he  decided  that  if  our  employers  could  obtain  the  money  for 
our  ship  tickets  it  would  clear  the  incurred  expenses;  but  if 
not,  the  expenses  were  to  be  deducted  out  of  our  wages,  and 
the  case  was  dismissed.  At  this  we  were  not  sorry.  I  went 
home;  but  as  my  parents  were  not  there  I  went  to  see  Wm. 
H.  Scott. 


23  E  VENTFUL  NARRA  TIVES. 

Before  p'^oceeding  further,  it  may  be  proper  to  offer  a  few 
words  concerning  our  capture.  When  we  did  not  return  to 
our  homes  at  the  time  appointed,  suspicion  was  immediately 
arroused  and  Mr.  Carter  told  Mr.  Gould  and  our  parents  he 
believed  we  were  connected  with  the  "Mormons,"  and  had  run 
away  with  the  intention  of  going  by  a  vessel  that  was  to  sail 
for  America.  They  at  once  telegraphed  to  London  to  see  if 
the  ship  had  started  and  were  informed  it  had  not. 

Our  parents  were  anxious  we  should  be  brought  back,  and 
my  mother  begged  they  wou  d  send  for  us.  8he  said  she 
would  do  anything  rather  than  have  us  go  to  Utah  with  the 
* 'Mormons."  Mr.  Gould  was  not  much  in  favor  of  takiog 
any  steps;  but  Mr.  Carter  felt  quite  interested  in  the  matter. 
He  telegraphed  to  London  and  had  a  detective  put  on  our 
track,  and  started  himself  for  London  that  evening  and  arrived 
there  early  next  morning,  when,  accompanied  by  a  detective, 
he  took  us  off  the  ship  as  already  narrated. 

To  again  continue  the  story,  I  spent  the  Saturday  after- 
noon after  our  trial  with  Wm.  H.  Scott,  who  had  not  yet  gone 
on  his  mission.  He  informed  us  that  while  we  were  absent  he 
had  had  an  unpleasant  time.  Both  our  parents  and  em ployers  had 
suspected  him  of  being  the  cause  of  our  absconding,  and  not  see- 
ing him  in  Middlesbrough,  they  thought  he  had  gone  with  us; 
but  in  this  they  were  mistaken,  as  William,  thinking  they 
would  suspect  him,  went  to  Stockton  and  stayed  there  a  few 
days.  After  this  interview  1  went  home  and  was  treated  very 
kindly  by  my  parents  that  evening. 


LEA  VINO  HOME.  S^ 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


A  Clipping  From  the  "Middlesbrouqii  News"— AProM5- 
isE  Made  but  Not  Fulfilled — The  Second  Attempt 
TO  Leave  Home. 

After  my  return  home  I  thought  seriously  over  the  mattet* 
of  absconding.  I  knew  I  had  broken  the  law  and  also  the 
promise  I  had  made  in  my  indentures  to  work  seven  years  with 
Mr.  Gould.  Had  my  parents  been  more  favorable  towards 
me,  I  should  not  have  left  my  home  and  employer  to  endeavor 
to  emigrate  with  the  Saints  until  I  was  free  to  act  upon  my 
own  nsi^onsibility,  and  to  do  as  I  thought  best.  But  noW 
that  I  was  back  again,  it  was  my  resolve  to  stay  and  fin- 
ish the  remainder  of  my  apprenticeship,  providing  my  parents 
would  grant  me  permission  to  attend  meetings  of  the  Saints 
and  not  be  too  strict  with  me. 

As  Richard  and  I  passed  along  the  streets,  people  made 
scornful  remarks  about  us. 

On  the  next  Friday,  June  1st,  my  attention  was  called  to 
the  following  article,  which  appeared  in  the  llidtUeshrough 
JS^ews,  published  that  morning: 

"Saturday.— Before  W.  Fallows,  Esq. 

"Off  to  Mormondom. — At  this  court,  two  youths,  named 
Richard  Sedgwick  and  Robert  Aveson,  the  former  an  appren- 
tice wilh  Mr.  Carter  of  Gosford  Street,  and  the  latter  with 
Mr.  Gould  of  South  Street,  printer,  were  charged  with  abscond- 
ing on  the  18th  ult.  The  lads,  in  company  with  a  young  man 
who  has  joined  the  Mormons  and  succeeded  in  converting  the 
lads  to  his  views,  went  from  Sunderland  and  from  thence  to 
London  by  the  steamer  Lady  Havelock^  en  route  for  Utah. 
A  warrant  was  sent  after  them,  and  they  were  apprehended  in 
London  and  brought  back  to  Middlesbrough. — Ordered  to  go 
back  to  the'r  work,  and  the  expenses  to  be  deducted  out  of 
their  wages." 


84  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES^ 

The  next  daj^  after  finishiog  my  work  at  4  o'clock,  Mr. 
Gould  brought  my  week's  wages,  but  instead  of  my  usual 
seven  shillings  and  sixpence  he  gave  me  five  shillings  and  six- 
pence. He  said  he  was  going  to  deduct  two  shillings  per 
week  until  the  full  amount  of  my  expenses  from  London  was 
paid.  This  did  not  meet  my  approval,  but  as  it  was  according 
to  the  decision  of  the  court  it  could  not  be  prevented. 

On  the  following  Sunday,  shortly  after  dinner,  I  told  my 
parents  I  wished  to  go  for  a  walk.  Permission  was  granted, 
but  my  father  accompanied  me. 

Riohard  Sedgwick's  parents  did  not  take  the  same  course 
with  him  as  my  parents  did  with  me.  fle  could  attend  any 
meetings  he  wished  and  was  permitted  to  go  where  he  pleased; 
but  a  strict  watch  was  kept  over  me  by  my  mother,  so  that  I 
was  always  in  a  miserable  suspense.  Besides  this,  my  mother 
was  all  the  time  talking  to  me  when  I  was  at  home,  which 
made  me  dread  to  see  her; 

On  Saturday,  June  9th,  my  mother  asked  me  to  go  with  her 
njxt  day  to  a  meeting  of  the  Wesleyan  Reformers. 

"Mother,"  I  replied,  "I  can't  serve  two  rehgions  at  once." 

"Yours  is  the  devil's  religion!"  she  replied. 

The  next  morning,  on  going  to  my  trunk  to  get  on  my  Sun- 
day clothes,  I  discovered  they  were  not  there,  and  on  asking 
my  mother  where  they  were,  she  said: 

"Those  clothes  you  wear  every  day  are  good  enough  for 
you  to  go  to  Mormon  meetings  in." 

Pleased  to  think  she  would  allow  me  to  go  even  on  those 
terms,  I  answered  that  it  did  not  matter  with  me  what  kind 
of  clothes  I  had  on  so  long  as  the  privilege  was  granted  of 
attending  "Mormon"  meetings. 

After  breakfast,  I  went  to  the  front  door  and  sat  on  the 
step  meditating,  while  people  passed  to  and  fro,  dressed  in 
their  Sunday  clothes.  Then  I  looked  at  mj^self  in  my  every- 
day attire,  with  no  coat  on,  as  mine  was  not  to  be  had.  It 
seemed  to  touch  me  on  a  sore  part  to  go  through  the  streets 
in  my  shirt  sleeves,  while  all  others  were  dressed  in  their 
best  clothes.  But  I  revered  my  religion,  loved  the  Saints  and 
was  not  going  to  stay  in  the  house  all  day  notwithstanding  the 
clothes  worn  by  me  were  shabby  for  the  Sabbath. 


LEA  VINO  HOME.  35 

The  church  bells  were  pealing  and  the  people  passing  to  and 
fro  to  their  respective  places  of  worship  as  I  hurried  to  my 
place  of  destination — Sister  Scott's — and  related  to  the  folks 
there  how  my  Sunday  clothes  had  been  locked  up  by  my 
mother.  From  one  of  the  Saints,  a  young  man  living  at 
Scott's,  I  obtained  the  loan  of  a  coat.  They  asked  me  to  come 
to  the  afternoon  meeting,  to  be  held  at  their  house,  which  I 
promised  to  do. 

Returning  home  about  noon,  my  father  commanded  that  I 
should  stay  in  the  house  the  remainder  of  the  day.  So  I  was 
prevented  keeping  my  promise. 

That  afternoon  was  one  of  the  most  unpleasant  of  my  life. 
Oh,  how  slowly  the  time  passed  away!  I  retired  early  to  rest. 
My  prayers  were  not  forgotten;  and  while  on  my  knees  big 
tears  rolled  down  my  cheeks. 

Kichard  and  I  intended  to  make  our  second  attempt  to  leave 
home;  but  prior  to  doing  so  awaited  an  answer  to  a  letter 
which  had  been  sent  to  President  George  J.  Linford  while  in 
the  Thames  Police  ofl&ce,  containing  our  ship  tickets.  But 
three  weeks  passed  away  before  the  expected  answer  came. 

On  Saturday  evening,  June  16th,  we  received  a  letter  from 
President  Linford.  It  informed  us  that  our  tickets  had  been 
received  all  right  and  contained  his  advice  to  us  not  to  aga'n 
run  away  from  our  homes,  but  serve  out  our  lawful  appren- 
ticeship. 

The  next  day  was  the  time  fixed  to  leave  our  homes  the 
second  time.  We  intended  to  start  at  5  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon by  steamer  for  Shields,  a  town  probably  between  forty  or 
fifty  miles  northward. 

In  the  morning  of  that  day  1  attended  the  Presbyterian 
church,  and  it  seemed  to  me  my  mother  was  beginning  to  think 
I  was  weaning  myself  from  *'Mormonism." 

In  the  afternoon,  Richard  and  I  went  to  Sister  Scott's. 
There  we  met  some  of  her  relatives  from  Shields.  One  of 
them,  a  young  lady,  not  intending  to  return  that  day,  gave  me 
her  ticket. 

One  or  two  acquaintances  of  Sister  Scott  were  going  to 
Shields,  and  we  intended,  on  arriving  there,  to  stay  with  them 


36  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

that  night.  Where  our  final  destination  would  be  we  hardly 
knew,  though  we  had  been  thinking  of  going  to  some  part  of 
Scotland.  Richard  had  about  £1.2^.  ($5.50).  I  had  no  money, 
bat  had  borrowed  5s.  ($1.25)  from  Sister  Scott. 

About  half  past  4  o'clock  we  went  down  to  a  boat  landing, 
accompanied  by  nearly  all  of  the  Scott  family  and  visiting 
relatives,  who  were  going  to  Shields.  The  steamer  we  intended 
to  go  by  was  timed  to  leave  at  5  o'clock;  a  steamer  for  Stock- 
ton also  started  at  the  same  time.  Both  the  steamers  were 
moored  near  each  other.  We  were  there  a  few  minutes  before 
6  o'clock  and  went  with  our  friends  into  a  waiting  room  on  the 
landing  stage.  Passengers  were  walking  about  the  landhig, 
awaiting  the  departure  of  the  steamers.  It  was  our  intention 
to  go  aboard  the  Shields  steamer;  but  before  doing  so  we 
noticed  a  man  named  Brooks,  a  printer,  going  on  the  Stockton 
steamer.  Being  acquainted  with  him,  we  deemed  it  advisable 
to  wait  till  the  Stockton  steamer  should  start,  for  fear  Brooks 
would  see  us  going  on  the  other  steamer.  This  placed  us  in  a 
rather  precarious  situation,  as  both  steamers  having  to  start 
at  the  same  time,  we  were  afraid  of  being  unable  to  get  on  the 
vessel  without  his  seeing  us.  Anxiously  we  watched  the  two 
boats,  wondering  which  would  start  first,  when  we  saw  the 
Stockton  boat  make  the  first  move.  How  pleased  we  were! 
It  had  not  got  many  feet  away  when,  turning  to  Richard,  I 
said  quickly: 

*'Mow,  let  us  go!  "  (meaning,  of  course,  for  us  to  go  on  the 
Shield's  steamer.) 

No  sooner  had  I  spoken  these  words  than  a  brother  in  the 
Church,  named  John  Parish,  hurriedly  approached  us  and  in 
a  half  whisper,  said: 

' ^Heres  your  mo therl ' ' 

These  words  perplexed  and  astounded  me.  Was  it  a  reahty 
that  we  were  stopped  the  second  time  in  our  attempt  to  leave 
home?  To  be  positive  that  Parish  was  correct  in  his  assertion 
I  looked  in  the  direction  he  pointed,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
was  my  mother  gazing  intently  at  the  two  steamers — one  on 
its  jouiney  and  the  other  just  ready  to  start. 


LEA  VING  HOME.  37 


CHAPTER  X. 


Planning  to  Leave  Home  a  Third  Time— Leave  Mid- 
dlesbrough—Arrival  AT  Newcastle— Leiph,  Ed- 
inburgh AND  Glasgow— A  Peculiar  Situation: 
No  Money,  No  Friends— Make  up  my  Mind  to  go 
TO  New  York— Arrival  at  Liverpool. 

I  left  the  waiting  room  and  returned  home  with  my 
mother. 

It  was  my  usual  habit  to  be  at  home  at  4  o'clock  on  Sun- 
days, but  being  absent  at  that  time  on  this  occasion,  my 
mother,  thinking  it  probable  I  was  going  to  a  Latter-day  Saint 
eveoing  meeting  at  Stockton  by  steamer,  came  to  the  boat 
landing  to  look  for  me. 

The  next  morning  my  mind  was  fully  set  to  make  a  third 
attempt  to  leave  home. 

At  dinner  time,  seeing  Richard  a  little  ahead  of  me  on  the 
street,  I  quickly  overtook  him  and  said: 

"Now,  Richard,  make  up  your  mind  to  go  away  to-night." 

He  was  surprised,  and  said: 

"We  have  been  stopped  twice  now,  and  I  don't  think  it's 
right  for  us  to  go  away  again;  but  I'll  go  with  you  if  you  want 
me  to." 

•  We  then  arranged  to  meet  at  the  theatre,  which  was  near  a 
boat  landing,  at  7:30  that  evening;  he  agreeing  to  bring 
with  him  out  of  my  box  (which  was  at  Sister  Scott's),  a  tin 
cup,  some  writing  paper,  envelopes,  and  pen  and  ink. 

The  working  hours  in  the  printing  office  were  from  8  a.m. 
till  7:30  p.m.  The  train  by  which  I  intended  to  leave  had  to 
start  at  7:45  p.m. 

Shortly  after  7  o'clock  that  evening  it  began  to  rain.  The 
suit  I  wore  was  very  thin  and  I  would  soon  be  wet  through. 
I  discovered  also  that  a  new  pocket  knife,  recently  purchased, 
bad  been  left  behind;  so,  thinking  of  the  rain,  my  poor  clothes 


EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 


and  the  knife,  I  was  in  two  minds  whether  to  go  that  night  or 
not.  I  walked  up  and  down  the  room  in  which  I  worked, 
hardly  knowing  what  to  do.  Twenty-five  minutes  past  seven 
came,  but  I  was  still  undecided  in  my  mind. 

Presently  I  left  the  place  and  hurried  down  to  where  Rich- 
ard was  waiting  near  the  theatre.  lie  had  the  things  which 
he  was  told  to  bring.  Borrowing  twelve  shillings  from 
him  and,  with  the  five  shillings  loaned  me  by  Sister  Scott,  my 
total  stock  of  cash  was  seventeen  shillings. 

The  rain  still  continued  and  my  clothes  were  wet.  I  parted 
with  my  friend  Richard  and  went  on  a  small  steamboat  which 
crossed  the  river  Tees.  After  crossing,  I  purchased  a  ticket 
to  Newcastle  on-Tyne  for  three  shillings  and  a  penny  and  soon 
boarded  the  cars  and  started  on  my  journey. 

Newcastle  was  reached  about  half  past  10  o'clock  that  night. 
Getting  out  of  the  cars  I  looked  around  for  a  few  moments  at 
the  elegant  and  spacious  railway  station  and  began  to  wondc  r 
what  was  the  next  thing  to  do,  as  it  was  my  intention  to  go  to 
Leith  next  morning.  After  finding  out  where  the  Leitli 
steamer  sailed  from  I  procured  lodgings  at  a  private  boarding 
house. 

At  4  o'clock  I  was  aroused  and  quickly  dressing  myself,  le-lb 
the  house  and  walked  the  streets  for  nearly  two  long  hours. 
About  6  o'clock  the  steamer  started.  We  arrived  at  Leith 
about  5  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Among  the  passengers  whose 
acquaintance  I  made  was  an  Irishmaa,  bound  for  G'asgow; 
and  having  the  address  of  the  president  of  the  Glasgow  Con- 
ference, I  thought  it  would  be  best  to  go  there. 

We  walked  from  Leith  to  Edinburgh,  about  two  miles  dis- 
tant, and  then  took  train  for  Glasgow,  reaching  the  latter 
place  about  8  o'clock.  The  address  I  wanted  to  go  to  was 
about  two  miles  from  the  station. 

After  entering  the  house  I  related  to  the  lady  there  the 
particulars  of  my  leaving  home,  during  which  time  she  pre- 
pared supper  for  me.  She  told  me  she  expected  Bro.  Cluff 
in  soon.  Nearly  an  hour  afterward  Brother  Clufi"  came  in. 
They  then  held  a  consultation  regarding  me  and  Brother  Cluff 
said  I  could  s'ay  there  that  night,  but  they  wished  me  to  leave 
in  the  morning, 


LEA  VIi\G  HOME.  39 

Next  morning  I  started  out  to  seek  work — called  at  printing 
offices,  paint  shops  and  other  places;  but  after  traveling  about 
all  day  met  with  no  success. 

In  the  evening  I  wended  my  way  to  the  Conference  House 
where  they  allowed  me  to  sleep  that  nigbt. 

Next  morning  I  started  out  again  in  search  of  employment. 
It  appeared  strange  there  tehould  be  numerous  advertisements 
for  boys  wanted  in  many  stores,  but  whenever  I  applied  they 
always  made  some  excuse. 

For  two  long  days  I  had  tramped  the  streets,  applying  at 
stores  of  various  kinds;  I  was  anxious  and  willing  to  work 
but  could  not  obtain  any.  All  the  money  I  had  borrowed  was 
spent — every  cent — for  traveling  expen  es,  food,  etc.  And 
here  was  I  in  a  strange  couotry,  without  home  or  friends,  and 
worst  of  all,  no  money.  What  was  I  to  do?  My  situation  was 
a  trying  one:  I  had  left  home,  friends  and  employer,  think- 
ing to  easily  obtain  employment  and  earn  enough,  with  that 
depobifcd.wiih  the  Perpetual  Emigration  Fund  to  emigrate 
next  year  to  the  frontier. 

In  the  evening  1  returned  as  usual  to  the  Conference  House, 
feeling  somewhat  low-spirited,  but  doing  my  best  to  cheer 
myself  up  and  look  at  the  bright  side. 

Conversing  with  Brother  Cluif  he  asked  me  why  I  did  not 
go  to  New  York.  I  replied  that  I  might  as  well  stay  in  Glas- 
gow, because  if  I  went  there,  I  should  not  arrive  in  time  to  go 
with  the  Saints  on  the  cars  to  Wyoming,  the  last  ship  having 
left  three  weeks  previous. 

Brother  Cluff  informed  me  that  another  ship  had  left  Liver- 
pool— the  St.  3fark—3ind  if  I  took  passage  by  steamer  from 
Glasgow  the  next  Saturday,  I  could  get  there  before  the  com- 
pany arrived;  and  said  he  thought  it  would  be  likely  I  should 
have  a  chance  to  go  with  the  Saints  to  the  frontier. 

Immediately  making  up  my  mind  to  do  as  Brother  Cluff 
had  advised  me,  I  wrote  to  Brigham  Young,  Jr. ,  at  Liver- 
pool, asking  for  my  money  in  the  P.  E.  Fund;  also  to  Sister 
Scott,  telling  her  of  my  resolve. 

On  the  Saturday  morning  the  postman  brought  two  letters, 
one  of  which  was  from  Liverpool  and  contjiined  a  post  office 
order, 


Being  too  late  to  secure  a  berth  on  the  steamer  which  was 
to  leave  Glassrow  that  morning,  as  all  the  berths  were  taken, 
I  decided  to  take  the  steamer  for  Liverpool  which  would  leave 
that  evening  at  6  o'clock,  and  sail  from  there  to  New  York. 
I  purchased  several  articles  of  clothing,  and  one  of  the  Saints 
in  the  Glasgow  branch  gave  me  a  hat,  shirt,  muffler,  etc. 

In  the  evening,  at  6"  o'clock,  I  left  Glasgow  for  Liverpool, 
which  place  we  reached  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day. 
I  at  once  proceeded  to  Brigham  Young's  office.  There  Elder 
Orson  Pratt  received  me  very  kindly  and  asked  one  of  the 
clerks  to  take  me  to  a  lodging  house,  which  he  did. 

The  steamer  Virginia  was  advertised  to  sail  for  New  York 
the  following  Wednesdaj^  June  27th,  and  I  made  arrange- 
ments to  embark  on  that  vessel. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Arrival  at  Qceenstown— In  Suspense— "It's  only  a 
Runaway  Boy  They're  After"— Akrival  at  New 
York— A  Proposition  Accepted. 

Queenstown  was  reached  the  next  day,  June  28th.  A 
small  steamer  brought  us  some  Irish  passengers,  also  some 
officers  in  search  ,of  some  one.  I  felt  somewhat  nervous  on 
seeing  them  and  wondered  who  they  were  after.  Who  did 
they  want?  was  it  me?  Being  anxious  to  ascertain,  1  inquired 
of  an  Irishwoman  who  was  near  me: 

"What  do  these  men  want?'* 

The  answer  she  made  surprised  me. 

"It's  only  a  runaway  boy  they're  after." 

I  was  thunderstruck  at  these  words,  but  still  kept  my  eye 
on  the  officers.  At  last,  seeing  them  make  their  way  in  the 
direction  where  I  was,  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  have  sunk 
into  the  cabin,  I  should  certainly  have  done  so.  Could  I  hide? 
No,  there  was  no  time  for  thaf. 


As  they  approached  near  me  I  sat  down,  folded  my  arms 
and  said  to  myself:  "Take  me  if  you  will!  "  Oh,  how  my 
heart  beat!  Another  moment  and  they  passed  by.  How 
thankful  1  felt  it  was  not  me  they  were  after!  It  transpired 
afterwards  it  was  a  soldier — a  deserter — they  were  in  search 
of 

In  a  very  Uttle  time  we  were  sailing  on  the  "deep  blue  sea." 

We  arrived  at  New  York,  July  13th,  being  sixteen  days  on 
cur  voyage. 

Two  or  three  hours  after  arriving  I  started  to  find  out  Mr. 
Thomas  Taylor's  office  and  was  kindly  invited  in.  No  time 
was  lost  by  me  in  accepting  the  invitation,  as  the  heat  was 
oppressive.  I  felt  the  effects  very  much,  for  no  sooner  was  I 
seated  than  faintness  overcame  me.  Some  cold  water  and  a 
fan  were  brought  me  and  I  soon  recovered.  H.  P.  Folsom, 
T.  B.  H.  Stenhouse  and  others  were  present.  Brother  Folsom 
was  formerly  travcHng  Elder  in  the  Durham  and  Newcastle 
Conference,  and  I  formed  his  acquaintance  at  Middlesbrough. 

After  being  in  the  office  a  few  minutes,  Brother  Folsom 
asked  me  if  I  was  from  Middlesbrough,  to  which  I  answered 
in  the  affirmative.  Knowing  I  had  worked  in  a  printing  office, 
Brother  Folsom  spoke  a  good  word  for  me  to  Brother  S  en- 
house,  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Salt  Lake  Daily  Telegraph, 
who  asked  me  how  locg  1  would  work  for  him  if  he  paid  the 
remainder  of  my  fare  to  the  frontier.  I  responded  two  years. 
He  then  said: 

''I'41  make  a  proposition  to  you,  Robert:  111  give  you 
twelve  dollars  a  week  for  the  first  year  and  fifteen  lor  the 
second." 

This  proposition  was  eagerly  accepted  by  me. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


Leave   New  York—Arrival  at  Wyoming— Incidents 
ON  THE  Plains. 

I  SLEPT  that  night  in  the  office.  The  next  day  Brother  H. 
P.  Folsom  procured  lodgings  for  me  at  Sister  Mary  I.  Wor- 
thington's,  in  Brooklyn,  with  whom  I  stayed  till  the  next  Tues- 
day, the  17th  of  June,  when,  in  company  with  her  and  her 
family,  we  left  New  York  about  midnight. 

Our  company  consisted  of  about  seven  hundred  Scandi- 
navians (a  ship  having  arrived  on  the  17th)  and  about  one 
hundred  English. 

On  the  29th  of  July,  about  noon,  we  arrived  at  Wyoming, 
a  small  settlement  in  Nebraska  Territory.  At  a  short  distance 
the  tents  of  the  Saints  attracted  my  attention,  and  I  soon 
wended  my  way  there,  finding  quite  a  number  of  those  who 
had  sailed  in  the  American  Congress,  We  were  pleased  to 
greet  each  other. 

After  dinner  I  took  a  stroll  over  to  one  of  the  stores  in  the 
settlement,  where  I  assisted  in  serving  customers  and  was 
given  my  board  as  a  recompense. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  August  2nd,  we  started  on  our 
long  journey.  Our  train  consisted  of  about  sixty-five  wagons. 
The  captain's  name  was  Eawlingp,  and  Brother  John  Nichol- 
son was  chaplain. 

About  twenty  miles  was  an  average  day's  journey.  The 
emigrants  walked  most  of  the  way,  riding  only  in  the  wagons 
at  intervals  to  rest  themselves.  Each  morning,  before  sunrise, 
we  were  aroused  by  the  sound  of  the  bugle.  Then  could  be 
witnessed  a  scene  of  activity;  all  were  bustling  around,  some 
going  for  wood,  others  carrying  water  and  lighting  fires. 

While  camping  at  night,  after  supper  had  been  prepared 
and  disposed  of,  we  enjoyed  good  times,  especially  in  listening 


to  singing,  in  which  some  young  ladies  excelled.  Groups  of  elder 
ones  could  have  been  seen  seated  around  large  fires,  conversing 
about  days  gone  by  and  forecasting  the  future. 

Following  are  some  inciden-s  which  happened  on  the  plains: 

Reaching  the  North  Platte  River,  and  after  being  camped 
there  two  or  three  hours,  one  of  our  company  appeared  with 
two  loaded  guns,  one  of  which  he  hurriedly  handed  to  a  young 
man.     We  asked  what  was  the  matter.     He  replied: 

"We  are  surrounded  by  Indians!  " 

I  then  rushed  to  our  wagon  to  get  a  pistol  which  I  thought 
our  teamster  had  left  in  the  wagon,  but  could  not  find  it.  All 
the  men  left  camp  to  ascertain  what  was  going  on.  Women 
and  children  began  to  cry  and  the  scene  was  heartrending. 
Those  of  us  left  in  camp  were  eagerly  looking  around,  expect- 
ing every  minute  to  be  attacked  by  Indians.  Our  camping 
place  was  in  a  lonely  spot.  On  one  side,  close  to  u^,  was  the 
North  Platte  River,  and  on  the  other,  about  the  same  distance, 
were  mountains.  Not  a  house  in  sight;  in  fact,  we  were  a 
great  many  miles  away  from  one.  We  afterwards  learned  that 
the  alarm  was  a  false  one.  The  captain  called  the  company 
together  and  chided  the  men  for  leaving  the  camp  without 
anyone  to  defend  it. 

One  snowy  morning,  when  probably  about  a  hundred  miles 
from  Salt  Lake  City,  I  started  out,  as  usual,  on  foot.  My 
shoes  were  considerably  worn  out,  and  one  of  them  was  badly 
used  up  and  so  hurt  me  that,  despite  the  snow,  I  had  to  throw 
it  away  and  walk  barefoot.  Approaching  our  teamster,  I 
b  sought  him  to  let  me  ride,  telliDg  him  my  deplorable  con- 
dition. He  refused  to  grant  my  request.  After  walking 
awhile  I  again  asked  permission  to  ride,  but  was  again  denied. 
The  snow  came  down  in  heavy  flakes  and  very  few  of  our 
company  were  walking.  I  trudged  along  for  about  three 
miles  with  only  one  shoe  on,  when  my  strength  failed — I  could 
go  no  farther— and  was  about  to  nt  down  in  the  snow,  at  the 
s  ^me  time  fervently  praying  to  my  Heavenly  Father  for  His 
divine  assistance.  As  soon  as  I  had  uttered  my  prayer  a  shoe 
came  flying  out  to  me.  Our  wagon  was  just  passing  by  and 
Sister  Worthington  was  the  person  who  threw  it.      It  was 


small  for  me,  but  with  difficulty,  after  rubbing  some  skin  off 
my  heel,  I  managed  to  get  it  on  and  went  limping  on  my  jour- 
ney. 


CHAPTER  Xlll. 


Arrival  in  the  "City  of  the  Saints"— Keeping  "Bach" 
—Mr  Parents  Join  the  Church— They  Emigrate 
TO   Utah. 

After  a  long,  weary  and  tedious  journey  of  about  seven 
thousand  miles.  Salt  Lake  City  was  at  length  reached  on  Sep- 
tember 30,  1866 — a  little  over  three  months'  travel  from  Liv- 
erpool to  Salt  Lake  City.  It  was  Sunday  when  we  arrived. 
That  morning  I  arose  early,  and  getting  something  to  eat,  left 
the  camp  fa  few  miles  up  Parley's  Canj'on),  and  wended  my 
way  to  the  "City  of  the  Saints,"  to  find  the  residence  of 
Broiher  T.  B.  E.  Stenhouse.  It  was  a  fine,  sunny  morning; 
everything  around  me  looked  charming  and  lovely. 

Onward  to  the  heart  of  the  city  I  went.  After  many 
inquiries  the  residence  of  Brother  Stenhouse  was  at  length 
reached.  He  was  pleased  to  Fee  me  and  invited  me  to  take 
dinner  with  himself  and  family.  In  the  afternoon  his  son, 
Lorenzo,  took  me  to  his  father's  printing  office,  which  was  my 
sleeping  place  that  night. 

Next  morning  I  went  to  the  Tithing  Office  yard,  where  our 
train  was  camped  (it  having  arrived  there  that  morning). 
President  Young  came  into  the  yard  to  see  us.  He  shook 
hands  with  many  of  the  brethren  and  sisters,  and  they  felt 
quite  honored.  I  was  informed  that  a  number  of  the  Saints 
who  sailed  on  the  Amencan  Congress  had  only  arrived  in  the 
city  a  day  or  two  previous.  Although  it  was  over  five  weel  s 
after  the  departure  of  the  American  Ccngress  before  my  leav- 
ing E  iglaai    [  did  lofc  lose  much  time  after  all. 

I  removed  what  little  luggage  I  had  to  the  Daily  Telegraph 
office,  thinking  it  best  to  "keep  baph"  for  the  present,  as  I 


had  no  relatives  or  any  particular  friend  to  board  me.  This  I 
did  for  nearly  eleven  weeks,  when,  December  19,  1S66,  James 
McKnight,  an  employe  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  office,  told 
me  that  if  it  suited  me  I  could  live  with  him.  His  offer  was 
gladly  accepted  and  I  stayed  with  him  for  several  months. 

During  this  time  letters  regularly  reached  me  from  my 
parents  and  I  was  prompt  in  answering  them;  giving  full  par- 
ticulars about  Salt  Lake  City  and  our  religion,  and  often  bore 
my  testimony  to  them.  I  was  here  in.Utah  without  a  relative 
and  was  very  desirous  they  should  receive  the  gospel,  although 
the  prospects  were  not  encouraging  at  that  time. 

In  August,  1868,  Wm.  H.  Scott  arrived  from  New  York 
(the  Scott  family  having  emigrated  to  New  York  in  1867). 
I  was  greatly  pleased  to  meet  my  friend.  He  was  the  first 
intimate  acquaintance  from  Middlesbrough  I  had  seen  since 
coming  to  Utah. 

It  is  painful,  however,  to  relate  that  he  apostatized  in  the 
Summer  of  1869.  It  was  about  the  time  when  the  "Godbe- 
ite"  movement  took  place.  From  the  time 'Brother  Scot 
embraced  the  gospel  he  was  one  of  the  most  zealous  workers 
in  th.e  cause  of  truth  ever  seen  by  me.T  He' labored  faithfully 
to  assist  in  establishing  the  latter-day  kingdom;  but  his  expecta- 
tions in  regard  to  Utah  and  her  people  were  not  realized.  I 
had  been  very  fond  of  him — had  loved  him  as  a  brother.  He 
had  been  a  friend  and  counselor  to  me  in  past  days,  and  when 
I  saw  that  he  was  as  much  in  opposition,  to  the  kingdom  of 
God  as  he  had  been  formerly  in  favor  of  building  it  up,  it 
grieved  me  very  much.  I  talked  and  reasoned  with  him  and 
tried  to  show  him  the  error  of  his  way,  but  it  was  all  in  vain. 
fie  became  more  and  more  bitterly  opposed  to  the  gospel  and 
in  the  Summer  of  1870  went  back  to  the  States. 

Correspondence  with  my  parents  and  also  my  relatives  was 
regularly  kept  up  from  the  time  of  my  arrival  in  Utah.  I  was 
very  anxious  to  induce  them  to  join  the  Church,  and  did  all 
in  my  power  to  induce  them  to  do  so. 

In  the  Spring  of  1879,  I  procured  the  address  of  the  presi- 
dent of  the  Middlesbrough  Branch—William  Garbett~and 
wrote  to  him,  requesting  that  he  should  see  my  parents  and 


use  his  best  endeavors  to  induce  them  to  embrace  the  gospel. 
Brother  Garbett  and  other  Saints  visited  with  that  object  in 
view. 

On  the  20th  of  September,  1879,  I  was  happily  surprised 
and  astonished  to  receive  a  letter  from  my  mother  with  the 
following  glad  tidings: 

"I,  your  mother,  was  baptized  a  member  of  the  Church  cf 
Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints,  on  the  23rd  of  August,  and 
your  father  on  the  30th  of  the  same  month." 

This  was  very  gratifying  news,  both  to  myself  and  wife. 
After  waiting  patiently  and  anxiously  for  over  thirteen  year?, 
my  prayers,  which  were  so  often  offered  up,  were  answered. 

My  reply  to  this  letter  from  my  parents  informed  them  how 
my  heart  rejoiced  to  hear  the  good  news,  and  stated  that  we 
wou'd  assist  them  to  emigrate  to  Utah  the  following  year. 

The  time  drew  nigh  fur  my  parents  to  arrive  in  Zion.  After 
such  a  lengthy  absence  from  them,  and  knowing  how  opposed 
to  the  work  they  had  been,  but  now  their  eyes  were  opened 
and  they  could  see  as  I  saw,  I  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to 
the  day  of  their  arrival. 

They  took  passage  with  the  first  company,  April  lOth^  1880, 
I  almost  counted  the  days  for  their  arrival.  At  last  it  was 
announced  by  telegram  that  the  company  woul  arrive  at  6:30, 
p.m.,  April  30,  1880.  Every  preparation  was  made  by  us  for 
their  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


My  Parents  in  Zion— Arrival  of  Richard  Sedgwick 
IN  Salt  Lake  City— His  Story  of  Leaving  Home 
IN  1867— How  the  President  of  the  Middlesbrough 
Branch  was  Emigrated— Re-union  of  the  Mid- 
dlesbrough Branch. 

The  next  morning  they  were  enabled  to  get  a  better  view  of 
he  "City  of  the  Saints."     It  was  the  first  of  May— a  fine 


sunny  day.  The  orchards  were  delightful  for  the  eye  to 
gaze  upon;  the  peach,  plum,  apple,  and  other  trees  were 
arrayed  in  their  sweetest  attire.  The  birds  were  merry,  the 
bee  and  butterfly  passed  too  aud  fro,  and  everything  around 
was  beautiful. 

My  parents  were  much  in  love  with  our  city  and  the  sur- 
roundings. During  the  day  father  was  seen  to  shed  tears— tears 
of  joy  and  sorrow.  He  was  glad  he  was  here  in  the  land  of 
Zion,  but  felt  sorrowful  to  think  of  his  sons  and  daughter  in 
Babylon.  To  a  neighbor  who  happened  to  be  near  him,  and 
saw  the  tears  roll  down  his  cheeks,  he  said  he  felt  sorry  to 
think  that  his  children  back  in  England  were  so  foolish  to 
stay  there,  when  they  might  have  been  here  in  this  beautiful 
country. 

My  parents  have  often  expressed,  that  they  wished  they  had 
come  here  years  ago. 

About  the  latter  part  of  October,  1880,  I  was  much  pleased 
to  receive  a  letter  from  my  brother  Mies,  at  Middlesbrough, 
stating  that  he  had  been  baptized  into  the  Church. 

In  September,  1881,  I  sent  his  fare  to  emigrate  him  to 
Utah,  and  he  arrived  in  S.tk  Lake  City,  Nov.  11th. 

My  readers  no  doubt,  have  been  wondering  what  became  of 
Richard.Sedgwick.  When  I  bade  him  good-by  in  England,  I 
little  thought  so  many  years  would  elapse  before  we  should 
meet  again.  After  my  leaving  Middlesbrough,  he  stayed 
there  a  little  over  one  year,  then  emigrated  to  New  York  and 
resided  in  Brooklyn,  at  which  place  he  was  married  in  July, 
1868.  Our  correspondence  continued  more  or  less,  from  the 
time  he  reached  that  place  till  he  arrived  in  the  valleys  of  the 
mountains,  November  10,  1882.  When  we  met  I  should  not 
have  known  him,  nor  would  he  have  recognized  me,  had  I 
not  answered  to  my  name  when  he  inquired  for  me.  It  was 
nearly  sixteen  years  and  a  half  since  we  saw  each  other,  and  it 
was  a  happy  meeting. 

The  following  is  Kichard  Sedgwick's  account  of  his  leaving 
home  in  1867: 

"I  started  from  home  on  the  1st  of  July,  1867.  It  was  on 
a  Monday  morning,  and  on  Mondays  we  used  to  commence 


48  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVE 

work  at  8  o'clock,  while  other  morniDgs,  we  began  at  6.  I 
took  the  train  for  Stockton  (four  miles  away),  and  on  arriving 
there  called  at  the  house  of  Brother  Thomas  Watson,  clerk  of 
the  Middlesbrough  and  Stockton  branch.  The  box,  which  we 
had  with  us  when  we  left  our  homes  the  year  previous,  was  at 
Brother  Watson's  house.  I  told  him  I  wanted  it,  as  it  was 
my  intention  to  go  to  Liverpool,  and  from  there  to  New  York. 
Brother  Watson  was  not  in  favor  of  my  going  away,  and 
advised  me  to  return  home,  but  my  mind  was  bent  on  leav- 
ing for  New  York  ani  then  get  to  Utah  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  kept  talking  with  me  till  1  missed  the  train  for  Liverpool. 
This  was  unpleasant,  as  [  was  afraid  Mr.  Carter  would  send 
an  officer  after  me. 

"Determined  not  to  be  bafiled,  I  took  my  box,  went  to  the 
station  and  waited  for  the  next  train,  perhaps  two  hours,  and 
arrived  at  Liverpool  about  2  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  It  so 
happened  that  a  steamer  had  to  leave  for  New  York  early  next 
morning.  I  went  to  42  Islington,  and  got  my  passage  money 
which  I  had  paid  to  sail  on  the  American  Congress  the  year 
previous. 

"Next  morning  I  was  up  bright  and  early  and  went  aboard 
the  steamer.  The  vessel  sailed  about  half-past  9  o'clock,  and 
it  was  well  she  started  at  that  hour,  for  I  learned  afterwards, 
by  letter  from  my  father,  that  as  soon  as  Carter  missed  me,  he 
lost  no  time  in  trying  to  have  me  brought  back  again.  A 
detective  was  put  on  my  track,  who,  fortunately  for  me,  arrived 
at  the  Liverpool  docks  just  a  few  hours  too  late." 

Oa  September  12,  1881,  I  received  a  letter  from  William 
G-arbett,  president  of  the  Middlesbrough  branch,  which  stated 
in  effect  that  there  had  been  a  death  in  his  family,  another 
reduction  in  wages,  a  poor  harvest  on  account  of  incessant 
rains,  and  provisions  were  rising  in  price.  In  answer,  I  told 
Lim  my  faith  was  that  he  would  be  emigrated  to  Utah  belore 
the  end  of  the  next  year.  Circulais  were  is  ued  by  me  to 
his  friends,  explaining  his  situation.  The  result  was  sufficient 
means  were  procured  to  emigrate  Brother  Grarbett  and  iamily 
(seven  in  numbei)  to  Ucah.     They  arrived  here  in  Sept.,  1882 

Il>iflecting  at  various  times  on  the  scenes  recounted  in  this 
little  work,  and  of  the  many  joyful  times  experienced  among 


LEA  VINO  HOME.  49 

the  Saints  in  Middlesbrough  and  vicinity,  it  occurred  to  the 
writer  that  a  revival  of  old  times  and  acquaintanceships  would 
be  greatly  relished  by  tho>e  who  had  emigrated  therefrom, 
and  it  was  finally  arranged  to  have  a  re-union  of  the  Middles- 
brough branch  of  the  church  on  Thanksgiving  day,  Novem- 
ber 29,  18S3. 

All  the  Saints  and  Elders  who  had  been  in  the  branch  were 
invited  to  be  present  at  the  4th  Ward  meeting  house,  wheie 
the  re  union  was  held.  Dinner  was  served  at  2  p  m.,  followed 
by  the  various  exercises,  such  as  singing,  reciting,  speaking, 
etc.  The  time  was  agreeably  spent  till  half-past  6  o'clock  in 
the  evening.  The  attendance  was  numerous  without  being 
crowded,  and  the  aifair  was  gratifying  to  all  present.  It  will 
remain  indelibly  impressed  upon  the  memories  of  all  who 
participated. 


A  BOY^S  LOVE:  A  MAN^S 
DEVOTION. 


CHAPTER  1. 


William  Anderson's    Heart  and    Hand— His    Early 
Life,  Home  and  Surroundjngs. 

TWO  little  shreds  of  yellow  paper  which  would  not  pass 
current  for  the  value  of  an  ordinary  letter  stamp!  And 
yet  they  are  to  be  cherished  in  the  family  Bible  as  a  treasure 
worthy  of  loving  gaze  and  reverent  touch. 

Look  at  them  closer.  One  resembles  a  hand  and  the  other 
a  heart.  Even  in  their  freshest  and  brightest  days  they  would 
have  been  condemned  by  the  artist  whose  standard  is  the  ideal, 
and  by  the  anatomist  whose  sole  appreciation  is  for  the  real; 
for  their  departure  from  anatomical  truth  is  not  in  the  line  of 
artistic  license.     Still  they  are  sacred  to  us. 


50  E  VENTFUL  NA  RRA  TI VES. 

Why  are  the  papers  so  j^ellow?  you  ask.  Because  more 
than  half  a  century  has  elapsed  since  they  were  cut  into  these 
shapes.  Why  so  fraj^ed  and  worn?  Because  for  years  they 
were  carried  in  a  woman's  bosom.  Why  so  stained?  Because 
they  have  been  wept  over;  and  doubtless  some  of  the  bitter- 
est of  all  tears— the  tears  which  fall  from  the  widowed  and 
the  fatherless,  have  moistened  them.  But  here  is  a  deeper 
stain  than  any  which  can  be  made  by  any  human  tears — what 
is  it?  The  blood  of  an  honest  man,  a  patriot;  the  blood  which 
flowed  from  the  real  heart  of  the  man  whose  real  hand  clipped 
these  little  uncouth  models  from  the  old-fashioned  sheet  and 
sent  them  to  his  lady-love. 

Turn  the  papers  over.     What  do  j^ou  read? 

"William  Anderson  sends  this  hand  to  his  sweetheart,  Eme- 
line  T.  Stewart.  Like  myself,  it  is  j^ours  now  and  forever,  if 
you  will  it  so. 

"NjiiAV  Vineyard,  Maine,  Christmas,  1829." 
"Dear  Emeline: 

I  offer  my  heart  to  j^ou.     Keep  it  if  you  can  love 
me  and  will  be  my  wife. 

"Your  true  lover — and  husband,  as  I  hope  to  be, 

William  Anderson." 

The  writing  is  cramped,  for  the  hand  which  laboriously 
traced  so  many  words  within  so  small  a  space,  though  it 
belonged  to  the  young  schoolmaster  of  the  village,  was  quite 
as  well  used  to  carrying  a  rifle  or  wielding  an  ax  in  ^the  forest 
as  to  this  scholar's  work.  The  composition,  too,  is  heavy:  Wil- 
liam Anderson  was  not  a  poet;  he  was  but  a  plain  youth  whose 
best  efibrt  was  to  put  his  honest  wish  into  honest  words,  and 
to  send  his  blunt  message  freighted  with  all  his  hopes  for  the 
future. 

Little  did  he  know  how  his  paper  hand  and  heart  would  be 
hoarded  to  come  into  the  loving  care  of  his  descendants !  The 
strong  man  is  dead — his  mangled  clay  rests  amid  the  decaying 
beauties  of  a  city  by  the  banks  of  the  lordly  Mississippi.  The 
devoted  woman  is  dead — her  tortured  body  reposes  under 
mighty  Wahsatch  shadows.  But  the  fragile  papers  survive; 
and  the  love  which  brought  them  into  being  lives.  It  lives 
eternally,  if  there  be  reward  in  heaven  for  sacrifice. 


A  BOY'S  LOVE:  A  MAN'S  DEVOTION,  51 

William  Anderson  was  the  son  of  a  New  Vineyard  farmer 
— well  to  do  with  the  grosser  goods  of  this  world,  as  well  as 
being  possessed  of  family  pride;  and  the  boy  was  taught,  along 
with  the  heavy  duties  of  the  field,  something  of  books.  He 
was  indulged,  too,  in  the  physical  luxury  of  a  yearly  meeting- 
suit,  made  out  of  wondrous  fabrics  brought  all  the  way  from 
Boston,  a  city  more  distant  and  mythical  in  the  estimation  of 
the  New  Vineyard  people  of  that  day  than  is  Benares  to  this 
age. 

Large  famihes  of  children  were  in  the  sturdy  and  healthy 
New  England  fashion  of  the  first  quarter  of  this  century,  and 
William's-  brothers  and  sisters  numbered  near  a  half  score. 
So  the  boys  were  impelled  to  industry  and  self-reUance. 

Religious  profession  of  some  kind  was  one  of  the  common 
comforts  of  life;  and  Mrs.  Joy  Anderson  was  proud  to  marshal 
"for  meetin' "  each  Sabbath  a  troop  as  numerous  and  well- 
behaved  as  the  family  party  of  Charity  Carver  or  Hope  Smith. 
William's  mother  was  of  a  Puritan  family,  and  vied  with  her 
female  neighbors,  whose  names  indicated  the  same  proud 
descent,  in  having  every  able  member  of  her  household  a 
regular  attendant  upon  divine  service. 

From  the  country  within  a  radius  of  five  miles  of  the  plain, 
old-fashioned,  stone  meeting  house,  came,  for  gossip  as  much  as 
genuine  worship,  all  the  settlers — rich  and  poor,  farmers, 
graziers,  woodsmen  and  the  few  traffickers  who  were  able  to 
make  their  Yankee  shrewdness  a  means  of  maintenance. 

One  of  the  principal  men  of  the  region  comprised  in  the 
scattered  village  of  New  Vineyard,  was  Hugh  Stewart,  farmer 
and  whilom  speculator  in  lands  and  timber.  His  family  was 
wont  to  journey  from  his  residence  to  the  church — a  distance 
of  two  miles  in  a  carryall. 

This  vehicle  was  the  object  of  much  reverence;  and  Hugh 
managed  by  frequent  applications  of  varnish  to  keep  it  in  that 
state  of  glossiness  which  constituted  its  chief  awe  in  New 
Vineyard  eyes.  Regularly,  rain  or  shine,  its  appearance  at 
the  last  turn  of  the  sandy  road  leading  to  the  meeting-house 
was  announced  by  some  watchful  youngster  and  the  waiting 
worshipers,  who  usually  assembled  an  hour  in  advance  of  ser- 


62  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

mon  time,  rushed  to  the  porch  to  watch  the  family  of  the 
Stewarts  dismount  from  their  carriage.  Though  this  practice 
was  continued  for  a  term  of  j^ears,  it  never  failed  to  awaken 
interest.  I  doubt  if  the  London  Lord  Mayor's  gilded  chariot 
ever  aroused  more  real  excitement  among  his  satiated  towns- 
men than  was  evinced  at  each  appearance  of  this  ancient  vehi- 
cle at  the  meeting-house  steps. 

The  occupants  of  the  carryall  were  invariably  checked  off 
upon  a  score  of  fingers:  "There's  Hugh  and  Martha,  and 
there's  Dan'l  and  Marchant  and  Em' line  and  Car' line." 

If  one  of  these  usual  attandants  happened  for  any  reason  to 
be  absent,  there  were  comments  and  surmises  without  number 
until  some  active  investigator  could  ascertain  the  cause;  and 
once  learned,  the  news  was  whispered  about  from  lips  quiver- 
ing with  eagerness  to  tell  unto  ears  twitching  with  anxiety  to 
hear. 

One  of  the  most  intensely  interested  of  the  watchers  was 
Mrs,  Joy  Anderson,  who  felt  all  that  her  religion  would  per- 
mit her  to  entertain  of  envy  for  the  almost  regal  state  in  which 
the  Stewarts  were  brought  to  church. 

More  than  one  scathing  rebuke  fell  from  her  very  capable 
tongue  upon  the  well-calloused  understanding  of  William,  the 
senior  Anderson.  Her  stock  complaint  is  worthy  of  preserva- 
tion as  showing  how  little  the  style  of  marital  reproach  has 
varied  within  three-quarters  of  a  century. 

"I  don't  care  for  myself,  and  you  know  I  don't;  I  don't  say 
a  grumbling  word  at  j^ou  for  not  taking  me  to  New  York  when 
Mrs.  Stewart  went  with  her  husband  though  you  know  well 
enough  you  were  quite  as  able  to  pay  my  way  as  he  was  to 
take  his  wife;  and  everybody  knows  that  if  anyone  deserves 
a  rest  I  do;  but  no,  I  never  can  go  to  visit  my  cousin  Faith 
Brewster  that  I  think  the  world  of,  though  I've  never  seen  her 
and  only  heard  from  her  twice  in  my  life,  and  she  may  have 
been  dead  these  ten  years  for  all  I  know  or  you  care,  and  even 
then  it  would  only  be  my  duty  to  visit  her  grave  and  I  could 
cany  along  a  little  box  of  mignonette,  in  case  of,  to  plant  on 
her  last  resting  place — no  I  never  say  one  word  about  these 
things,  and  I  alwaj^s  spare  your  feelings  instead  of  telling  you 


A  BOrS  LOVE:  A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  5 

how  often  Mrs.  Stewart  looks  at  me  as  if  she  had  a  kind  of 
contemptuous  pity  for  my  suffering;  but  what  I  feel  so  awfully 
hurt  about  are  the  airs  that  the  Stewart  children  put  on  when 
they  get  out  of  the  carriage  on  Sunday  at  the  meeting-house 
door;  and  we've  got  more  than  half  the  distance  to  travel  and 
you  could  well  afford  something  of  the  kind,  and  then  we  could 
get  to  the  meeting-house  even  if  some  of  us  were  sick,  and 
because  we've  had  not  a  day's  sickness  in  the  house  in  fifteen 
years  is  no  sign  we  won't  have,  but  all  the  more  sign  that  it 
must  come  sooner  or  later ' ' 

Though  this  somewhat  inconsistent  speech  was  received  with  no 
apparent  emotion  by  the  substantial  husband  and  father  whom 
it  was  intended  to  pierce  with  its  sharp  sarcasm;  it  always 
created  a  little  excitement  among  the  children. 

Mrs.  Stewart  was  really  a  good  woman  who  was  compelled 
by  frequent  attacks  of  illness  to  pay  some  attention  to  personal 
comfort,  and  who  had  never  thought  of  triumphing  over  her 
esteemed  friend  Joy  with  a  glance  of  pity.  Mrs.  Anderson 
was  also  a  good  woman;  but  she  unwittingly  taught  her  chil- 
dren to  hold  envy  and  dislike  for  neighbors.  Probably  she 
was  not  the  first  woman,  as  she  was  certainly  not  the  last  to 
pursue  this  foolish,  unchristianlike  course. 

Little  William  was  often  an  attentive  listener  to  this  wail  of 
his  mother;  and  from  it  he  tried  to  conceive  a  deep  and  bitter 
hatred  for  the  rival  aristocratic  family  at  the  other  end  of  the 
village. 

Very  strangely,  this  effort  of  the  boy,  begun  and  religiously 
pursued  under  a  sense  of  family  loyalty,  was  utterly 
unavaihng.  There  was  something  in  the  soft  eyes  and  patient 
face  of  Mrs.  Stewart  which  consumed  all  his  bitter  thoughts 
and  made  him  feel  more  like  kissing  the  lady's  hand  than 
hating  her,  even  for  his  injured  mother's  sake. 

Often  and  often  when  she  was  assisting  the  children  from 
the  carriage,  while  Hugh — something  too  careless  in  this 
respect,  was  taking  his  horse  from  the  thills  or  hailing  neigh- 
bors in  a  hearty  voice,  little  Will  Anderson  felt  a  barely  resist- 
ible inclination  to  rush  forward  and  offer  his  help.  Was  he 
restrained  fo^  a  fear  of  punishment  from  his  mother,  or  the 


cule  from  the  assembled  villagers?  Not  one  of  these  fears 
influenced  him  in  the  least:  he  was  simply  afraid  that  there 
was  one  of  the  children  that  he  could  not  lift.  It  was  not  tall 
Dan,  nor  fat  March;  for  he  felt  that  he  could  toss  them  both 
over  the  meeting  house  if  such  conduct  would  have  been 
advantageous  to  the  Stewart  family;  though  either  of  the  boys 
was  as  large  as  two  such  chaps  as  Will.  And  of  course  it  was 
not  little  Carrie,  for  she  was  only  a  baby,  three  years  old, 
"lighter  than  goose  down,"  as  Will  thought,  but  did  not  say 
aloud.     But  it  was  Emeline. 

Will  had  looked  this  girl  in  the  face,  from  a  distance,  two 
or  three  times — she  had  brown  eyes,  deep  and  true;  and 
brown  hair,  in  heavy,  rich  coils.  Her  face  was  as  full  of 
unsullied  beauty  as  a  lily  blossom.  It  had  always  a  thoughtful 
expression  as  if  the  little  brain  were  solving  some  grave  prob- 
lem of  more  than  human  interest.  At  least,  all  this  is  what 
Will  saw  and  felt  in  an  indistinct  sort  of  fashion.  I  doubt  if 
she  were  quite  so  ethereally  beautiful  as  Will  imagined;  for 
girls  born  and  reared  on  New  England  farms  are  not  as  fra- 
gile as  a  hot-house  flower,  and  I  dare  say  that  she  laughed  as 
often  as  other  girls;  I  know  from  personal  knowledge  that  in 
later  life  she  was  not  too  prim  to  play  practical  jokes. 

But  Will  felt  that  he  could  not,  for  his  very  life,  offer  to 
lift  this  girl  from  the  carriage  step.  He  was  stout  and  heavy 
twelve  years  old;  and  EmeUne  was  light  and  slender  nine;  yet 
the  exertion,  especially  if  she  should  happen  to  look  at  him 
from  her  wonderful  eyes^  would  be  fatal. 


CHAPTER  11. 


Boyhood  Sports— An  Amateur  Militia— A 'Campaign 
Incident— Will  Anderson's  Gtallantry— Christ- 
mas Morning  GtReeting— The  Afternoon  Service — 
A  Combat  among  the  Boys. 

"IT  riLL  was  more  than  five  years  old  when  peace  was  declared 
'  »  after  the  second  war  with  Great  Britain ;  and  the  subject,  in 
that  time  of  slow-moving  news,  was  still  a  matter  for  frequent 
talk  when  he  completed  his  tenth  year.  He  was  then  admitted 
into  the  ranks  of  the  "Continental  Veterans,"  an  organization 
of  the  patriotic  youths  who  trained  along  the  roads  and  in  the 
woods  adjoining  the  village,  and  told  to  each  other,  with  pas- 
sionate interest,  all  the  tales  of  adventure  and  heroism  which 
they  could  glean  from  their  elders.  The  youngsters  kept  up 
really  an  accurate  show  of  a  military  organization;  including 
this  important  feature  (which  they  had  learned  from  the 
example  of  their  elders),  that  all  were  officers  of  some  rank  or 
other.  In  the  day-time  they  built  fires  in  the  woods  on  the 
banks  of  the  Penobscot;  and  pretended  that  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  night,  dark  as  a  stack  of  black  cats.  Occasionally 
they  captured  a  calf  and  tried  it  as  a  spy  by  court-martial; 
usually  allowing  it  to  escape,  at  the  last  moment,  its  sentence 
of  hanging,  and  then  putting  the  guards  on  trial  for  aiding  in 
the  escape. 

Four  years  of  this  training  made  Will  a  major,  all  the  elder 
boys  ranking  from  lieutenant  colonel  upward. 

One  afternoon  late  in  the  Autumn,  when  they  were  having 
a  jolly  good  time  in  ambush  along  the  old  south  road,  a  picket 
sentry  announced  a  body  of  the  enemy  advancing  rapidly. 
The  hostile  party  consisted  of  one  little  girl,  Emeline  Stewart, 
who  was  trotting  briskly  homeward  from  her  weekly  visit  to 
the  village  sewing  school.     Will  was  scouting  at  another  point 


56  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 

in  company  with  Emeline's  two  brothers;  and  when  one  of  the 
colonels  suggested  taking  the  entire  force  of  the  enemy  pris- 
oner of  war,  no  dissenting  voice  was  raised. 

They  met  and  seized  her,  poor,  timid,  little  Emeline!  She 
knew  these  boys,  her  school-fellows  and  plaj^mates,  and  they 
were  not  rough;  but  they  kept  up  such  a  style  of  martial  bra- 
vado, and  talked  so  glibly  of  court-martial  and  execution — 
they  rehearsed  with  such  sanguinary  details  the  precedents 
established  last  week  by  the  hanging  of  eight  Hessian  and 
Tory  spies,  that  the  child  was  struck  speechless  with  fear. 

From  long  practice,  the  young  rogues  acted  with  as  much 
confidence  and  presence  of  mind  as  if  they  had  been  really  old 
soldiers.  What  alarmed  Emeline  most  of  all  was  that  they 
never  once  lapsed  back  from  soldiers  into  the  village  boys  of 
her  acquaintance.  Look  at  them  with  pleading  eyes  as  much 
as  she  would,  they  gave  no  response.  Without  knowing  how 
they  were  startling  the  child,  the  boys  kept  on  with  their  cruel 
work. 

A  council  of  war  was  called,  with  General  Hezekiah  Brad- 
ford presiding;  and  before  this  pompous  assemblage  Emeline 
was  commanded  to  stand  and  plead.  She  burst  into  tears  and 
then  sank  down  upon  the  mossy  sward,  while  the  boys,  struck 
with  sudden  remorse,  gazed  blankly  at  her  and  then  at  each 
other. 

At  this  instant  Will  and  his  companions  hurried  into  the 
camp.  A  few  words  of  explanation  from  one  of  Will's  broth- 
ers revealed  the  whole  situation,  including  the  identity  of  ''the 
enemy. ' ' 

While  they  were  gazing  at  the  child's  recumbent  form, 
Hezzy  Bradford  spoke: 

"Guards,  remove  the  prisoner,  and" 

He  was  about  to  conclude  with  "set  her  at  liberty;"  but 
Will  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  conclusion.  Deeming  this 
speech  but  a  continuation  of  the  cruelty  shown  toward  Emeline, 
he  rushed  at  the  president  of  the  court-martial  and  with  one 
accidentally-directed  bunt,  he  knocked  that  august  official  from 
his  seat  of  pine  boughs  and  sprawled  him  upon  his  back, 
breathless  and  helpless  for  the  moment. 


A  BOrS  LOVE:  A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  57 

Without  waiting  for  any  consultation  or  help,  Will  picked 
up  the  slender  child  and  darted  away  with  her;  while  the  Con- 
tinental Veterans,  including  Emeline's  brothers,  stood  gaping 
as  if  they  had  lost  their  senses. 

Once  out  upon  the  road  and  far  enough  from  the  camp  to 
show  that  immediate  pursuit  was  not  intended,  Will  was  fain 
to  place  Emeline  upon  a  bank,  that  they  both  might  get 
breath. 

The  child  looked  at  him  with  wonder,  at  first  mingled  with 
fear.  But  soon  she  realized  that  he  was  her  rescuer  and  began 
to  thank  him  in  her  tender,  cooing  way;  soon  changing  to  a 
just  and  fiery  indignation  at  her  tormentors. 

Will's  physical  exertion  had  been  a  trifle  compared  with  the 
overwhelming  nature  of  Emeline's  glance.  He  was  now  ready 
to  wilt.  He  might  have  fled  ignominiously,  but  just  at  that 
moment  when  he  felt  himself  about  to  take  this  course  a  shout 
came  from  the  boys  in  the  wood. 

Will  at  once  squared  himself  sturdily,  intending  to  encounter 
all  comers.  But  Emeline,  with  a  cry  of  affright,  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  cried: 

"Oh,  quick.  Will!  Let  us  run  for  home  or  those  wicked 
boys  will  catch  me  again! " 

At  this  familiar  invitation,  the  boy  took  the  outstretched 
hand  of  the  child  into  his  own  broader  palm;  and  thus 
together  they  ran  toward  the  Stewart  residence.  Will  giving 
the  little  girl  a  helpful  lift  at  every  step  of  the  flight. 

Looking  back  as  they  ran,  Will  saw  his  comrades  emerge 
from  the  wood  and  shake  their  warrior  fists  at  the  fugitives; 
but  he  readily  observed  that  a  hopeful  pursuit  was  deemed  out 
of  the  question,  and  that  the  boys  were  not  intending  to 
chase. 

The  gate  opening  into  the  Stewart  grounds  was  speedily 
reached  and  then  Will  stopped  and  expected  Emeline  to  enter. 
But  she  remained  outside  long  enough  to  say: 

"Will  Anderson,  you  are  better  than  a  brother  to  me.  If 
you  had  not  been  there,  so  good  and  brave,  what  could  I  have 
done!" 

When  the  grateful  child  at  last  disappeared  within  the 
house,  Will  turned  to  walk  slowly  back  to  the  village. 


turn  of  tlie  road  leading  through  the  wood.  Raising  his  eyes 
at  some  sHght  sound  in  front,  he  saw  a  phalanx  of  the  Con- 
tinental Veterans  drawn  up  in  line  across  his  path;  while  at 
the  same  moment  a  similar  body  of  troops  closed  in  from  the 
sides  and  took  position  a  few  steps  in  the  rear  of  his  person. 
Will  was  taken  in  an  ambuscade,  which  was  performed  so  suc- 
cessfully and  with  such  perfect  regard  to  military  precedent, 
that  it  is  probably  talked  of  to  this  day  in  New  Vineyard 
among  the  great  grandchildren  of  the  Continental  Veterans. 

A  colonel  solemnly  placed  Will  under  arrest;  and  then,  by 
command  of  General  Bradford,  the  troop  marched  to  the 
encampment  in  the  depths  of  the  pine  wood. 

The  court-martial  so  abruptly  dismissed  an  hour  before  was 
now  ceremoniously  re-convened,  and  William  Anderson,  major 
in  the  Continental  Veterans,  was  charged  with  an  attack  upon 
his  superior  officer.  The  accusation  was  proved  and  the  sen- 
tence of  the  court,  General  Bradford  still  sitting  as  presiding 
officer,  was  that  the  culprit  be  dismissed  the  service. 

As  the  sentence  was  being  pronounced.  Will  sprang  to 
his  feet  and  shouted: 

"Boys,  don't  carry  this  any  further.  I  believe  in  military 
discipline,  but  let  us  settle  this  matter  outside  of  the  army. 

"Hezzy,  if  I  hit  you,  I  did  it  accidentally;  but  I'm  ready  to 
take  the  consequences,  and  I'll  stand  up  and  fight  you  until 
you  get  satisfiiction.  Come  on,  you're  bigger  than  I  am  and 
you're  three  years  older;  you're  sure  to  get  the  best  of  it. 
Let's  fight  it  out  between  us  two  and  let  that  settle  the  mat- 
ter." 

Such  a  plan  did  not  entirely  suit  the  general.    He  remarked: 

"You're  sentenced;  and  you'll  have  to  quit  the  service.  But 
I'll  give  you  plenty  of  'consequences'  besides,  so  make 
ready. ' ' 

This  truthful  historian  grieves  to  say  that  in  the  fight  which 
ensued,  General  Bradford  disgraced  his  uniform  by  cowardice; 
that  most  of  the  boys  were  afraid  to  interfere  even  when  they 
saw  the  plainest  rules  of  combat  violated  by  the  strapping 


To  Will's  credit  be  it  said  that  he  fought  with  all  the  energy 
of  his  being,  administering  occasional  terrific  blows  on  the 
rosy  nose  of  the  general;  and  that  he  made  no  cry  for  quarter 
even  when  soundly  thrashed . 

After  the  encounter,  the  boj^s  dispersed  to  their  homes. 

Will's  heart  was  full  of  grief— not  so  much  for  the  licking 
as  for  his  dismissal  from  the  ranks  of  the  Continental  Vet- 
erans. Bat  he  tried  to  bear  up  bravely  in  the  hope  that  Eme- 
line's  kind  feeling  for  him  was  permanent  and  not  dependent 
upon  his  military  position. 

The  Stewart  boys  went  home  with  some  shame  in  their 
minds  for  the  unsoldier-like  part  which  they  had  played  in  the 
thrilling  events  of  the  afternoon.  But  they  sought  to  make 
amends  by  describing  Will's  chivalry  and  pluck  inmost  extrav- 
agant terms  to  Emeline  and  all  the  other  younger  members  of 
the  household. 

Emeline  was  deeply  interested  in  the  recital;  and  her  soft 
little  heart  was  torn  between  reverence  for  Will's  heroism  and 
indignation  at  the  baseness  of  his  persecutors — even  her  own 
brothers  coming  in  for  a  lecture  which  made  them  hang  their 
heads  and  look  at  each  other  in  a  most  woe-begone  fashion. 

During  the  next  few  days  Will  had  much  to  suffer;  for  big 
boys  who  were  high  ofiicers  in  the  Yets,  laughed  at  him,  and 
little  boys,  whose  highest  temporary  aspiration  was  to  belong 
to  that  corps,  sneered  and  chuckled  whenever  they  caught 
sight  of  this  dismounted  "knight  of  the  sorrowful  visage." 

Seven  weeks  passed  before  Christmas  morning  dawned  in 
that  bitterly  cold  Winter  ot  1823.  With  the  rising  of  the  sun 
that  day,  two  boys  drawing  a  sled  on  which  was  seated  a  little 
girl,  well  wrapped  and  cuddled,  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
Anderson  residence — the  girl  was  Emeline  and  the  boys  were 
Dan  and  March,  whom  she  had  forced  into  reluctant  service. 
They  entered  the  big  kitchen,  upon  the  invitation  of  Mrs. 
Joy,  and  amid  a  chorus  of  salutations  in  which  the  visitors 
bore  their  part. 

When  they  were  fairly  in  the  house,  with  the  biting  frost 
shut  out  and  the  tumult  ended,  Emeline  asked  for  Will. 


60  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

It  is  very  unromantic  but  it  is  truth  that  the  object  of  her 
inquiry  was  at  that  particular  moment  seated  at  one  corner  of 
the  fireplace,  straining  himself  black  in  the  face  to  draw  on  a 
pair  of  damp  cowhide  boots  over  a  pair  of  similarly  damp 
woolen  socks — all  of  which  personal  belongings  he  had  been 
seeking  to  dry  by  the  morning  fire,  when  this  astounding  inter- 
ruption came. 

Will  succeeded  in  getting  both  boots  on  "as  far  as  the  heels," 
but  go  no  further  they  would;  and  when  his  father  called  him 
to  come  forward,  the  poor  boy  got  up  and  walked  in  agony  and 
distortion  toward  Emeline.  He  was  at  least  three  inches 
taller  than  common,  from  the  fact  that  his  chubby  heels  rested 
upon  the  high,  implacable  stifi'ening  of  the  boots;  and  his  face 
wore  a  twisted  look  of  agony  which,  coupled  with  his  abnormal 
height,  would  have  made  him  unrecognizable  by  casual 
acquaintances. 

Most  of  the  family  laughed,  and  Dan  and  March  joined  in 
the  hilarity — for  really  Will  did  appear  grotesque;  but  Emeline 
either  from  absolute  unconsciousness  or  gentle  cunning,  did 
not  seem  to  notice  the  boy's  awkward  situation,  and  she  began 
to  talk  to  him  with  a  self-possession  entirely  unruffled. 

"Will,"  she  said,  "I  have  brought  j^ou  a  pair  of  mittens 
for  a  Christmas  gift.  They're  my  first  knitting  and  mother 
says  they're  not  good  enough  for  a  present;  but  they're  the 
best  I  can  do  now,  and  I  off'er  them  to  you  because  you've  been 
so  kind  to  me  and  had  to  sufi'er  so  much  for  my  sake.  I  hope 
you  will  wear  them,  will  you?" 

Emeline  had  ample  time  for  this  long  speech.  Poor  Will 
was  dumb  and  gulping.  But  before  it  was  ended  his  confusion 
had  shrunk  his  feet  so  that  he  was  able  to  literally  sink  into 
his  boots,  and  with  this  relief  his  face  had  changed  from  a 
purple  hue  to  a  good  tint  of  health.  He  found  his  voice  in 
time  to  answer: 

"That  I  will,  if  mother  will  let  me — that  is,  I  mean  if  your 
mother  will  let  me. ' ' 

And  so  the  blushing  boy  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took 
the  package,  but  Emeline  kept  a  tight  hold  of  one  end  of  the 
cloth  in  which  the  mittens  were  wrapped,  as  she  was  under 


A  BOrS  LOVE   A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  61 

positive  instructions  from  her  thrifty  mother  to  return  the 
piece  of  hickory,  for  which  the  shoulder  of  Dan's  second- 
best  shirt  was  even  then  yawning. 

The  separation  of  the  gift  from  its  wrappings  was  soon 
achieved,  and  the  hickory  tucked  into  the  depth  of  EmeHne's 
pocket.  Then  wholesome  maple  sugar  was  produced,  and  with 
it  a  few  pieces  of  sugar  candy  such  as  some  of  those  young 
lips  had  never  before  had  an  opportunity  to  smack  over. 
During  the  hilarity  which  ensued,  Will  was  doing  his  best  to 
creep  back  into  a  state  of  self-possession.  But  this  work  was 
prodigious  and  slow;  for  when  he  had  several  times  fairly 
arrived  at  a  stage  of  comparative  comfort,  a  friendly  glance 
from  the  kind  little  knitter  sent  him  again  into  a  state  of  con- 
fusion. After  the  Christmas  luxuries  had  been  distributed 
and  given  lodgment  in  capacious  stomachs  or  economizing 
pockets,  the  Stewart  children  departed  and  left  Will  to  the 
ungentle  raillery  of  his  family.  Being  amply  able  to  care  for 
himself  in  a  family  contest  with  either  ridicule  or  logic  as  the 
weapon — or,  what  is  sometimes  as  good  as  both,  a  downright 
unreasoning  self-assertiveness,  Will  felt  no  pain  during  the 
assault  to  which  he  was  subjected;  rather,  he  derived  keen 
enjoyment  from  it.- 

In  the  afternoon  sacred  services  were  held  in  the  meeting 
house;  for  these  people  gave  to  every  observance,  which  they 
deemed  holy,  their  highest  esteem,  and  nearly  all  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  village  were  present.  Probably  the  good  old 
preacher  who  was  a  new  comer  to  the  village,  had  delivered 
forty  other  Christmas  sermons,  or  even  the  same  sermon  forty 
other  times;  but  familiarity  with  the  subject  had  not  lessened 
his  power. 

He  first  stilled  the  buzz  of  gossiping  whisper  when  he 
announced  that  his  text  would  be  from  one  of  the  great  poets; 
and  the  congregation  bent  with  horror  to  hear  what  dreadful 
thing  he  next  would  utter.  Even  into  this  remote  corner  of 
the  New  World  had  penetrated  the  evil  fame  of  the  irreverent 
poet  lord,  "Childe  Harold,"  and  even  the  very  name  of  poet 
brought  with  it  an  oppressive  sense  of  sin. 

The  false  impression  was  soon  removed.    In  a  voice  rendered 


62  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

tremulous  by  age  and  feeling,  the  minister  repeated  some  of 
the  verses  of  Milton — the  Christian  whose  earthly  sight  had 
been  lost  at  last  to  make  his  Heavenly  vision  more  com- 
plete. As  the  wonderful  words  of  adoration  filled  the  house 
of  WO' ship,  every  head  was  bowed  in  contrition  for  unworthy 
thought: 

"This  is  the  month  and  this  the  happy  morn, 
Wherein  the  Son  of  Heaven's  eternal  King, 

Of  wedded  maid  and  virgin  mother  born, 
Our  great  redemption  from  above  did  bring; 

For  so  the  holy  sages  once  did  sing, 

That  he  our  deadly  forfeit  should  release, 

And  with  his  Father  work  us  a  perpetual, peace. 

Having  won  his  congregation  to  solemnity  of  feeling,  the 
preacher  taught  them  that  "All  good  Christians  celebrate  the 
day  of  Christ's  nativity,  a  day  of  joy  both  in  heaven  and  on 
earth:  in  heaven  for  a  day  of  glory  unto  God ^  on  high;  on 
earth  for  a  day  of  peace  here  below,  and  good-will  towards 
men;  a  day  of  joy  to  all  people  past,  present  and  to  come; 
such  a  day  as  wherein,  after  long  expectation,  the  best  return 
was  made  that  ever  came  to  the  poor  sons  of  men;  such  a  day 
as  the  Lord  Himself  made.    Let  us  therefore  rejoice  therein!" 

Even  impatient  and  restless  youth  was  awed  by  the  manner 
and  words  of  the  earnest  minister;  and  the  boys  restrained 
within  unusual  bounds  their  desire  to  be  out  of  church  amidst 
the  hearty  enjoyments  of  the  day. 

When  the  service  was  ended,  the  people  dispersed  more 
slowly  and  thoughtfully  than  was  their  wont;  but  humanity 
cannot  long  be  kept  upon  such  ^an  exalted  plane  of  feeling, 
and  soon  began  the  gossip  and  familiarity  common  to  the 
occasion.  Especially  among  the  young  people  was  the  reaction 
quickly  noticeable;  and  while  the  elders  were  speaking  of  the 
latest  birth,  death  and  marriage,  the  children  were  already 
beginning  to  romp  even  at  the  very  door  of  the  meeting-house. 
The  youngsters,  despite  their  exceptional 'appreciation  of  the 
sermon,  and  even  more  as  a  wilful  revulsion  from  their  note- 
worthy behavior,  were  determined  now  to  compensate  them- 


A  BOrS  LOVE  A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  63 

selves  for  self-sacrifice;  and  they  gathered  in  a  noisy  crowd  in 
the  street  passing  before  the  house  of  worship. 

The  sun  was  sending  down  his  best  Winter  beams,  and  the 
snow  was  made  just  moist  enough  for  sport;  so  a  contest  of 
snow-balling  was  at  once  informally  arranged  between  the  boys. 
Hezzy  Bradford  was  one  of  the  leaders,  and  when  he  and  his 
rival  had  each  made  choice  of  two  or  three  of  the  larger  boys, 
someone  already  chosen  said  to  Hezzy: 

"Take  Will  Anderson — there  he  comes.  He's  the  straight- 
est  thrower  of  the  lot. ' ' 

But  Hezzy,  whose  dislike  of  Will  had  been  steadily  aug- 
menting since  the  fight  in  the  pine  grove,  was  not  ready  to 
make  peace  with  his  victim.  So  he  shook  his  head  and  sneer- 
ingly  cried: 

"Here  comes  the  baby  who  wears  mittens  to  a  snow-balling 
match,  for  fear  that  his  fingers  will  get  wet.  Watch  me  tip 
his  cap  off!" 

With  these  words  Hezzy  threw  an  icy  snow-ball  which  he 
had  been  carelessly  making  while  choosing  sides.  The  missile 
flew  straight  to  its  mark,  and  Will  felt  his  head  stung  sharply 
as  his  cap  tumbled  into  the  road. 

Will  saw  the  hand  of  Hezzy  and  knew  that  retaliation  meant 
a  renewal  of  hostilities;  but  he  did  not  hesitate.  He  pulled 
off  his  valued  mittens,  crowded  them  into  his  pockets  and  in  a 
moment  proved  that  any  praise  of  his  accurate  throwing  was 
not  ill  bestowed.  He  cast  a  snow-ball  fairly  into  Hezzy' s  ear, 
rather  staggering  that  blusterer,  and  causing  a  peal  of  laugh- 
ter to  go  up  from  the  crowd. 

As  our  boy  had  expected,  Hezzy  declared  war  and  rushed 
forward  to  summarily  punish  this  reckless  antagonist. 

Was  it  that  the  insult  to  the  mittens  had  nerved  Will  with 
a  superhuman  strength?  or  was  it  that  all  the  indignation  of 
weeks  became  suddenly  centered  in  his  arm?  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  reason,  he  fought  with  an  effective  vigor,  before 
which  Master  Hezekiah  Bradford,  general,  village  bully  and 
aspiring  sweetheart  was  compelled  to  go  ingloriously  down. 
Briefly  and  plainly  told.  Will,  to  his  own  astonishment,  no  less 
than  to  the  marvel  of  the  spectators,  licked  Hezzy  until  that 


U  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

great  military  commander  was  glad  to  cry  for  quarter  and  sur- 
render unconditionally. 

More  than  one  oppressed  youngster  was  gladdened  by  the 
result  of  this  combat;  and  so  great  was  the  excitement  pro- 
duced that  the  general  contest  was  incontinently  forsaken. 

Hezzy  was  led  away  by  his  brothers  and  one  or  two  others, 
who  gave  him  a  kind  of  contemptuous  attention;  but  the 
majority  of  the  boys  crowded  near  to  the  conqueror. 

From  this  hour,  Will's  rank  among  his  companions  was 
undisputed.  He  had  soundly  thrashed  the  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  Continental  Yets. ;  and  without  any  request  from 
himself,  he  was  speedily  restored  to  his  former  rank  of  major, 
only  to  relinquish  that  position  very  soon  to  be  installed  in  the 
chief  place  vacated,  in  profound  disgust,  by  Hezekiah  Brad- 
ford. 

Nor  Avas  this  the  least  of  his  triumphs.  When  next  he  met 
Mrs.  Stewart  she  praised  his  powers  in  unstinted  terms. 
Though  the  conscientious  lady  could  not  exactly  approve  of 
fighting  among  boj's,  nevertheless  she  felt  that  Will's  troubles 
and  subsequent  victories  were  traceable  directly  to  his  manly 
defense  of  her  daughter;  and  Mrs.  Stewart  could  not  withhold 
her  congratulations.  And  Emeline,  herself,  from  out  her  brown 
eyes  looked  such  pleasure  at  him  during  the  next  school  ses- 
sion that  he  felt  almost  self-reproachful  at  receiving  so  much 
reward. 


A  BOY'S  LOVE   A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  65 


CHAPTER  III. 


The  Progress  of  the  Age—Will   Anderson's  Court- 
ship—The Christmas  Sermon. 

In  those  times  the  months  moved  on  in  serene  procession 
with  the  people  of  New  Vineyard.  In  a  later  age  of  rapidly- 
recurring  marvels  we  are  wont  to  speak  of  the  first  quarter  of 
this  century  as  a  "slow-poke,  old-fogy  time;"  we  contemptu„ 
ously  wonder  how  men  endured  the  tedious  drag  of  the  sea- 
sons. 

In  William  Anderson's  journal  I  find  a  note  which  gives 
token  of  the  dawn  of  this  great  modern  day  of  progress.  He 
writes: 

''August  2,  1824. — Not  many  days  ago,  Mr.  Stewart  gave 
me  a  newspaper  to  read;  he  said  something  was  in  it  which 
ought  to  interest  a  bright  boy  like  myself  (I  only  repeat  this 
because  Emeline's  father  said  it.)  The  paper  is  the  Hancock 
Gazette  and  Penobscot  Patriot,  of  May  26,  1824;  and  it  tells 
of  a  wonderful  ship  which  has  come  into  the  lower  waters  of 
our  river.  It  works  with  fire  instead  of  wind  and  it  can  walk 
against  tide,  or  current,  or  gale,  as  well  as  a  horse  can  trot 
against  a  breeze.  I  have  heard  before  of  this  marvelous 
thing  called  a  steamship,  but  never  thought  it  was  a  true  won- 
der; but  if  it  is  really  traveling  up  against  a  heavy  Penobscot 
current,  fire  or  steam  or  something  else  that  is  unusual  must 
move  it,  for  I  am  sure  that  no  landward  breeze  that  ever  came 
ofi"  the  Atlantic  could  do  such  a  work.  At  any  rate,  I  must 
see  this  strange  ship  and  decide  whether  I  shall  believe  or 
not." 

The  biographer  finds  that  Providence  favored  Will  with  a 
trip  to  Bangor  later  in  the  year.       How  he  came  to  be  thu§ 


66  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

blessed  the  excited  youth  does  not  relate — beyond  the  fiict  that 
he  went  with  his  father,  who  adventured  so  far  from  home  as 
a  factor  of  the  log  men  of  the  upper  Penobscot  to  deal  with 
the  opulent  lumber-mill  owners  at  Bangor.  Much  that  ensued 
upon  this  important  journey  is  lost  to  us,  through  Will's 
hurried  state  after  his  return.  But  we  learn  that  the  steam- 
ship was  actually  a  fact;  for  Will  stepped  on  board  the  Maine ^ 
a  boat  of  one  hundred  tons  burthen,  commanded  by  Captain 
Porter — the  first  steamer  and  the  first  steamer  captain  to  be  in 
Penobscot  waters.  And  it  is  also  proven  that-  the  wondrous 
vessel  could  move  without  the  aid  of  sails;  for  after  Will  had 
disembarked  he  saw  her  shift  her  moorings  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  directly  against  wind  and  current. 

What  most  fills  the  journal  at  this  period  is  that  Will  was 
scratching  an  aching  and  unresponsive  head,  seeking  to  decide 
upon  some  suitable  present  for  Emeline  which  could  be  com- 
passed by  the  contents  of  his  little  bead  purse.  After  much 
anxiety  he  felt  a  sudden  thrill  of  satisfaction  as  he  remembered 
the  poet  whose  sublime  words  the  old  preacher  had  quoted  last 
Christmas  day.  He  found,  after  much  search,  a  shoe 
shop  where  books  were  also  kept  (for  in  those  days  busi- 
ness was  not  so  scrupulously  and  appropriately  divided  as  now). 
But,  alas!  the  only  copy  of  Milton  was  priced  at  twenty-seven 
shillings,  while  his  purse  held  scarcely  half  that  much! 

He  turned  away  in  utter  disapx)ointment,  when  the  thouaht 
came  to  him: 

"Why  do  I  seek  the  modern  poet  who  sang  of  Jesus?  The 
book  which  tells  all  we  know  of  Him,  I  am  sure  is  easier 
got."  . 

He  retraced  his  steps,  and  upon  the  cobbler-bookseller's 
shelves  he  found  a  red  morocco-bound  Testament,  which  was 
offered  at  thirteen  shillings;  and  this  he  bought  and  later  rev- 
erently packed  away  among  the  wonderful  supplies  which  had 
been  purchased  by  the  elder  WilHam  under  distant  direction 
of  the  precise  and  thrifty  Mrs.  Joy. 

It  was  bleak  November  when  the  two  Williams  Anderson 
returned  to  New  Vineyard.  What  holiday  secrets  they  had 
in  store  they  kept  well;  and  the  Christmas  Day  brought  many 
surprises. 


A  BOrS  LOVE  A  MANS  DEVOTION.  67 

To  Emeline — found  upon  the  Stewart  mansion  door-steps 
that  sacred  morning — came  a  little  package  which,  unwrapped, 
showed  a  Testament  bound  in  red  morocco.  That  precious 
little  book  is  now  before  the  eyes  of  this  historian.  Upon  its 
yellow-stained  title  page  are  discernible  these  words: 
"My  friend,  Emeline  T.  Stewart, 

"You  will  please  accept  this  Testament 
as  a  gift  from 

"Your  Friend, 

"William  Anderson. 

"Emeline: — Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive.  Knock,  and  it  shall 
be  opened  unto  you." 

Four  years  slipped  away.  During  this  time  Will  was  bash- 
fully loving  Emeline;  and  Emeline,  well,  she  was  bashfully 
watching  Will's  love. 

This  wondrous  flower  of  affection  grows  by  "bashful  watch- 
ing" just  as  morning  glories  unfold  in  greeting  to  the  hour  of 
enchantment.  And  when  the  Christmas  Day  of  1828  came, 
each  of  these  dear  children  went  to  church  and  watched  the 
other. 

The  sermon  was,  for  Christmas,  a  novel  one,  both  in  text 
and  treatment.  It  related  to  marriage  as  a  state  ordained  for 
man;  and  the  text  was  from  Fuller's  "Holy  State,"  wherein 
it  is  declared: 

"It  is  the  policy  of  the  Londoners,  when  they  send  a  ship 
into  the  Levant  or  Mediterranean  Sea,  to  make  every  mariner 
therein  a  merchant,  each  seaman  adventuring  somewhat  of  his 
own,  which  will  make  him  more  wary  to  avoid,  and  more  val- 
iant to  encounter  dangers.  Thus  married  men,  especially  if  hav- 
ing posterity,  are  the  deeper  shares  in  the  state  wherein  they 
live,  which  engageth  their  aff'ections  to  the  greater  loyalty. 
And  though  bachelors  be  the  strongest  stakes,'  yet  married 
men  are  the  best  binders  in  the  hedge  of  the  commonwealth. ' ' 

Will's  mind  must  have  been  holding  a  thought  not  utterly 
foreign  to  the  text;  for  he  unconsciously  nodded  approval  of 
the  very  sensible  sentiment;  and  then  he  glanced  at  Emeline. 
The  same'  instant,  her  eyes  were  lifted  from  a  strained  look  at 
the  floor  and  were  turned  in  his  dinrectiion.     One  long  gaze 


EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 


passed  between  them;  and  this  was  Will's  informal  proposi- 
tion of  marriage  and  Emeline's  informal  acceptance. 


CHAPTER  TV, 


William  Anderson's   Marriage   and   Journey   West- 
ward— He  and  His  Wife  Hear  the  Gospel — Visit 

NaUVOO— GrATHER  WITH  THE  SaINTS— ThE   BATTLE  OF 

Nauvoo. 

It  was  five  hours  less  than  one  j^ear  later  in  the  serene  chro- 
nology of  New  Vineyard,  when  Will  sent  his  paper  heart  and 
hand  to  Emeline.  His  trusty  younger  brother,  Barton,  was 
his  messenger;  and  to  escape  observation,  the  boy  was  com- 
pelled to  go  early  and  return  quickly.  At  breakfast,  Will  saw 
Barton  enter  the  house  and  one  glance  told  that  the  mission 
had  been  successfully  performed. 

Some  hours  later,  at  the  regular  Christmas  services  in  the 
meeting-house.  Will  saw  Emeline.  His  look  was  an  anxious 
question,  and  hers  was  a  gentle  affirmative  answer;  and  this 
was  Will's  formal  proposition  of  marriage  and  Emeline's 
formal  acceptance. 

William  Anderson  and  Emeline  T.  Stewart  were  wedded  in 
their  little  town  of  New  Vineyard,  September  6,  1831. 

Is  this  too  abrupt?  It  might  be  if  marriage  were  the  end 
of  the  story;  but  unlike  fiction,  in  real  life  the  most  unevent- 
ful period  of  human  existence  is  from  engagement  to  marriage; 
and  unlike  fiction,  in  real  life  the  importance  of  existence  comes 
after  marriage . 

Not  long  did  they  remain  in  their  little  village  home.  For 
William  had  decided  to  seek  a  greater  measure  of  prosperity 
in  the  wide  lands  lying  far  beyond  New  Vineyard  in  the  mys- 
terious West. 

Happy  indeed  was  the  fortune  which  carried  them  away 
from  Maine.  Their  long  journey  across  half  a  continent  was 
a  revelation  of  Divinity  to  their  souls.  Mountain,  forest,  lake, 
cataract,  valley — breathed  with  beauty  and  grandeur,     Two 


A  BOrS  LOVE:  A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  69 

ardent  beings,  viewing  all  things  under  the  radiance  o£  their 
mutual  love,  saw  the  majesty  of  the  land,  the  water  and  the 
arching  cloud  space  above,  with  reverent  ej^es — for  beyond 
these  tangible  evidences  of  sublime  power,  they  sensed  the 
Eternal  Cause. 

It  was  in  the  days  and  weeks  of  lonely  journeying  that  they 
learned  how  to  pray;  they  felt  that  never  again  would  suppli- 
cation and  song  of  praise  to  Almighty  God  be  formal  lip-ser- 
vice given  only  at  stated  intervals — rather  it  would  be  an  hourly 
and  often  silent  communion  with  the  Creator.  In  the  day, 
they  felt  the  Holy  Presence  in  every  glory  which  adorned  the 
earth;  at  night,  in  the  quiet  of  the  woods,  they  gazed  through 
swaying  tree-tops,  and  saw  the  stars  shedding  earthward  a 
serene  beauty:  and  they  knew  that  the  God  who,  from  His 
far-oif  seat  of  power,  could  unfold  the  swamp-pink  flowers  by 
the  side  of  their  lonely  path,  and  could  send  through  unfath- 
omed  space  the  light  of  countless  spheres  to  cheer  the  silent 
watches  of  the  night — could  also  lend  His  special  care  to  the 
sentient  worshiping  creatures  of  His  love. 

Far  away  upon  the  prairie  they  at  last  decided  to  make  their 
home.  They  settled  in  Bureau  County,  Illinois;  and  William 
became  a  sturdy  western  farmer.  In  the  ten  years  following 
their  marriage  three  children  came  to  make  their  domestic 
happiness  complete.  The  eldest  was  a  son,  Augustus;  the 
others  were  daughters,  CaroHne  and  Martha. 

Each  season  of  the  year  brought  its  allotted  toil,  and  the 
reward  of  perseverance  and  thrift  was  earthly  prosperity. 

Occasionally  they  heard  rumors  of  a  strange  sect  of  relig- 
ious believers,  with  a  prophet,  who  dwelt  in  a  wonderful  city 
on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  far  to  the  south-west  of  their 
home.  And  one  Summer  day  in  1841,  four  strange  men,  plain 
but  pleasing  in  appearance,  stopped  at  their  door.  These  men 
were  missionaries  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ,  journeying 
from  the  city  of  Nauvoo  to  proclaim  His  words  to  the  honest- 
in-heart  throughout  the  land.  They  left  their  marvelous  mes- 
sage with  William  and  Emeline,  with  the  admonition  to  pray 
to  God  who  would  reveal  whether  the  doctrine  was  true  or 
false;  and  one  of  them  in  leaving  prophesied  in  these  words: 


ijora. 

The  prophecy  was  fulfilled.  Before  many  days  had  elapsed 
the  truth  was  plain  to  the  minds  of  William  and  Emeline;  and 
they  awaited  anxiously  the  visit  of  an  Elder  who  might  give 
them  membership  in  the-  Church  of  their  Savior.  When 
weeks  passed  without  the  appearance  of  missionaries  William 
regretted  his  obduracy  at  the  time  when  he  was  first  pressed 
to  accept  the  truth. 

Later,  another  opportunity  came,  and  on  the  15tli  day  of 
August  of  that  year,  1841,  in  the'  Avaters  of  Bureau  Creek, 
William  was  immersed  in  sacred  baptism.  Afterward,  Eme- 
line rendered  similar  reverence  to  the  requirement  of  the 
gospel. 

As  soon  as  he  could  garner  his  crops,  William  felt  that  he 
must  hasten  to  the  beautiful  city  of  the  Father  of  Waters. 
He  carried  with  him  on  the  eventful  journey  to  Nauvoo  his 
wife  and  their  three  little  ones;  and  they  reached  the  city  on 
Thursday,  September  30th,  1841. 

On  the  day  following,  the  great  conference  of  the  Church 
was  to  have  opened;  but  the  storm  prevented  the  assembling 
of  the  Saints.  And  after  learning  that  the  meetings  were 
postponed  for  one  day,  William  left  his  wife  and  children  com- 
fortably shielded  in  their  wagon  from  the  blast  while  he  wan- 
dered about  regardless  of  the  storm.  He  looked  with  awe- 
struck vision  upon  the  temple  which  was  rearing  its  majestic 
presence  toward  heaven;  and  he  gazed  with  curiosity  at  the 
place  which  was  being  excavated  for  the  foundation  of  the  Nau- 
voo House. 

The  next  day,  Saturday,  October  2nd,  the  people  crowded 
to  the  tueeting  ground  and  organized  themselves  into  their 
quorums  in  order.  The  corner  stone  of  the  Nauvoo  House 
was  laid  that  morning;  but  in  the  afternoon  services  in  the 
conference  meeting  were  held. 

The  Sabbath  came — a  bleak  day;  but  William  and  Emeline, 
with  their  little  ones,  were  at  the  meeting  grounds,  and  they 
saw  and  heard  that  day  the  Prophet  of  God. 


voice,  with  Its  wonaeriul  impressive  sweetness,  tney  snea  tears 
of  happiness. 

Joseph's  sermon  was  upon  the  glorious  principle  of  redemp- 
tion for  the  dead;  and  he  portrayed  the  greatness  of  Divine 
compassion  and  benevolence  in  this  plan  of  human  salvation. 
He  said: 

"View  two  brothers — equally  intelligent,  learned,  virtuous 
and  lovely — walking  in  uprightness  and  all  good  conscience,  so 
far  as  they  are  able  to  discern  duty  from  the  muddy  stream  of 
tradition  or  from  the  blotted  page  of  the  book  of  nature.  One 
dies  and  is  buried,  never  having  heard  the  gospel  of  reconcili- 
ation. To  the  other  the  message  of  salvation  is  sent;  he  hears 
and  embraces  it  and  is  made  the  heir  of  eternal  life. 

"Shall  the  one  become  the  partaker  of  glory  and  the  other 
be  consigned  to  hopeless  perdition?  Is  there  no  chance  for 
his  escape?  Sectarianism  answers,  'None,  none!'  Such  an 
idea  is  worse  than  atheism.  The  truth  shall  break  down  and 
dash  in  pieces  all  such  bigoted  Pharisaism.  The  sects  shall 
be  sifted,  the  honest-in-heart  brought  out  and  the  priests  left 
in  the  midst  of  their  corruption. ' ' 

Such  was  the  new  and  exalted  nature  of  the  instruction; 
and  when  the  conference  was  ended  William  and  Emeline  had 
determined  to  sacrifice  their  distant  possessions  and  gather 
with  the  Saints  in  the  beautiful  city.  But  their  desire  was  not 
immediately  fulfilled;  for  William  was  called  to  preach  and 
discuss  through  the  States;  and  in  his  absence  Emeline  nobly 
and  cheerfully  toiled  for  her  children  and  their  dear  father. 

Nearly  three  years  of  missionary  labor,  broken  by  intervals 
of  farm  toil,  had  passed  when,  on  the  darkest  day  of  the 
darkest  June  ever  seen  by  the  summers  of  this  great  land,  a 
treasonable  massacre  took  place  at  the  little  stone  jail  in  Car- 
thage. The  appalling  news  of  this  great  national  crime 
reached  out  with  sudden  horror  to  all  the  abiding  places  of  the 
scattered  Saints. 

William  heard  the  dread  story  and  hastened  home.       His 


72  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 

property  was  fairly  ^iven  away,  and  soon  he  was  with  his 
encompassed  and  persecuted  brethren  in  Nauvoo. 

Immediately  he  was  enrolled  in  the  Legion;  later  he  was 
appointed  sergeant;  and  still  later,  captain. 

I  have  here  the  original  certificate  of  his  rank  as  sergeant. 
The  paper  is  old  and  the  ink  is  faded;  but  every  letter  is  leg- 
ible.    It  reads: 

"May  12th,  1845. 
"Greeting: 

"This  is  to  certify  that  William  Anderson  is  appointed 
first  sergeant  in  the  second  company,  fifth  regiment,  second 
cohort  of  the  Nauvoo  Legion.  And  he  is  therefore  to  obey  all 
orders  and  commands  of  his  superior  officers  with  fidelity 
according  to  law  and  military  rule  and  discipline. 
"Given  under  my  hand  May  12th,  1845. 

"Isaac  Allred,  Capt." 

William  Anderson  and  Emeline  were  faithful;  and  they 
received  the  blessings  of  the  temple.  And  on  "Tuesday  of  the 
first  week  in  February,  1846, 1  [William  Anderson]  received  in 
marriage  in  God's  Holy  House,  Drusilla  Sargent." 

In  all  the  tragic  history  of  the  ensuing  two  years,  William 
was  a  staunch  actor.  It  was  a  piteous  time!  History  shows 
no  greater  brutality  than  that  which  was  perpetrated  against 
the  city  and  the  Saints,  by  officially  protected  mobs;  and  in 
the  trying  days  every  man  was  compelled  to  show  his  mettle. 
William  Anderson's  journal  is  filled  with  the  record  of  this 
awful  period.  Its  simple,  unaffected  words  show  how  closely 
allied  were  the  people  of  Nauvoo  to.  the  sublime  martyrs  of 
other  centuries. 

The  history  of  that  brief  time  should  be  read  by  every  youth 
in  Utah. 

On  the  10th  day  of  September,  1846 — after  the  cruelly-en- 
forced migration  of  many  of  the  people  of  Nauvoo — there 
were  left  to  guard  the  city  and  its  remaining  population  of 
women  and  babes,  sick  and  tottering  old  men — only  123  citi- 
zens who  were  capable  to  bear  arms. 

And  this  was  the  hour  selected  by  the  fiends  incarnate  for 
their  descent  upon  Nauvoo.     The  city  was  surrounded  by  an 


A  BOrS  LOVE:  A  MAN'S  DEVOTION.  75 

efficiently-armed  mob,  nearly  2,000  strong;  and  a  bombard- 
ment was  begun  by  the  besiegers. 

When  the  thunder  of  the  mob's  traitorous  guns  shook  the 
air  of  Nauvoo,  William  sprang  up  to  answer  the  call  of  duty. 

Emeline  and  Drusilla  clung  to  him — a  fearful  foreboding  of 
personal  evil  seemed  to  take  sound  and  volume  with  every 
reverberation  of  the  artillery  discharges.  But  he  was  firm. 
He  pressed  his  fond  and  faithful  wives — his  helpmeets  given 
him  of  Grod— to  his  martial  bosom;  and  then  he  left  them  to 
solace  themselves  by  prayer  while  he  rushed  to  the  encounter. 

Then  these  two  good  women — sisters,  nay  dearer  to  each 
other  than  sisters — knelt  down,  with  arms  clasped  about  each 
others  waists  and  prayed  to  the  All-Merciful  to  bring  their 
good  husband  home  in  safety  from  the  battle. 

One  day,  two  days  passed.  It  was  the  morning  of  the  1 2th 
day  of  September,  1846.  William  was  bidding  farewell  to  his 
wives  and  his  children;  when  Kmeline  sobbed  anew: 

"Oh,  my  beloved!  Let  not  Augustus  go  to  the  battle  to- 
day. He  is  but  a  child :  think,  William!  he  is  only  fourteen. 
Each  day  he  has  followed  you,  taking  his  gun  on  his  shoulder 
to  fight  the  wicked  enemy  and  to  brave  a  dreadful  death.  Let 
him  stay  with  me ! " 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  thunder  of  the  cannonade  shook  the 
city;  and  William  sprang  away  to  hasten  to  his  post,  while 
Augustus  gave  a  ringing  cry  and  fled  from  the  house. 

The  two  women  and  the  little  girls  were  left  alone — Emeline 
and  her  younger  sister  wife,  the  loving  Drusilla,  and  Caroline 
and  Martha — white  and  trembling. 

Hours  elapsed,  during  which  these  good  women  were  pray- 
ing as  they  toiled. 

The  sounds  of  the  battle  waging  around  the  city  neither 
distracted  them  from  devotion  nor  domestic  duty. 

Gradually  there  came  a  lull;  and  a  momentary  hope  sprang 
up  in  their  hearts.  But  even  while  the  precious  thought  was 
taking  form,  a  rattle  of  musketry  shook  the  window  panes; 
and  a  moment  later  the  deep  boom  of  a  siege  gun — shaking 
the  houses  from  chimney  to  cellar — told  that  the  struggle  was 
renewed  in  all  its  fierceness. 


upon  the  floor.     As  she  dropped  she  cried: 

"Drusilla,  my  friend,  this  instant  has  widowed  us  and  has 
taken  from  this  house  its  only  son.  I  feel  the  dread  fact  here 
in  my  heart!" 

The  younger  wife  and  the  two  little  girls  hastened  to  the  side 
of  Emeline,  and  there  they  knelt,  weeping  and  moaning.  The 
premonition  seemed  too  real  to  be  disputed. 

While  the  women  and  children  were  rocking  back  and  forth 
in  their  agony  of  apprehension,  a  hurried  knock  was  heard  at 
the  door;  and,  without  waiting  for  a  response,  a  brother  sol- 
dier of  William  stalked  into  the  room.  He  saw  the  piteous 
sight;  and  all  his  gallant  hardihood  gave  way.  Mingling  his 
heavy  tears  with  the  rain  from  gentler  eyes,  he  sobbed: 

"My  sister,  our  Savior  help  you!  Brother  Anderson  is  dead! 
God's  will  be  done! " 

The  spirit  of  courage  sustained  Emeline,  and  she  cried: 

'  'Where  is  our  husband?  Alive  he  was  ours — and  we  will 
have  his  clay  now  life  is  ended.  Call  my  boy  to  bring  his 
father's  body  home.     Grod's  will  be  done! " 

While  the  grief-shaken  soldier  was  replying,  another  breath- 
less messenger  burst  in,  saying  between  his  gasps  of  haste  and 
sorrow: 

"Your  boy  is  dead!  Oh,  Sister  Anderson,  he  fell  a  martyr 
^brave,  manly,  beyond  his  years — he  took  a  soldier's  part: 
he  has  met  a  soldier's  fate." 

Did  this  last  blow  send  Emeline  swooning?  No:  in  such  a 
crisis  a  noble,  religious  soul  is  exalted  beyond  the  reach  of 
earthly  mourning. 

Calmly  she  spoke: 

"I  will  go  forth  and  find  our  dead — my  murdered  boy  and 
our  martyred  husband — Drusilla.  Do  you  prepare  couches  for 
their  home-coming. ' ' 

But  Drusilla  was  herself  a  heroine: 

"No,  my  sister,"  she  said,  "j^our  duty  is  at  home.  Often 
your  life  has  been  threatened  by  this  mob.  They  will  watch 
our  husband's  body,  and  if  you  appear  you  too  will  be  sacri- 


remain  with  these  fatherless  babes  of  yours — of  ours. ' ' 

Drusilla  rushed  from  the  house  as  she  spoke.  Emehne 
would  have  followed;  but  one  of  her  husband's  comrades  had 
remained  to  restrain  her,  and  besides,  her  little  daughters 
clung  at  her  skirts,  determined  to  prevent  her  goinsj  forth. 

So  Emeline  stayed  at  the  stricken  house,  preparing  for  that 
last  solemn  home-coming  of  her  soldier  spouse  and  son.  While 
she  toiled  to  fit  a  bed  for  the  dear  forms — now  stilled  through 
earthly  time — she  recalled  from  her  memory  that  the  anni- 
versary of  her  wedding  day  was  but  six  days  past;  and  in 
another  fortnight  she  would  be  34  years  old — already,  in  her 
early  prime,  she  was  the  widow  of  a  martyr  and  the  mother  of 
a  murdered  patriot, 

Drusilla  went  abroad  through  the  smoky  streets  of  Nauvoo, 
escorted  by  one  of  the  heroic  defenders,  to  the  east  side  of  the 
city.  There,  resting  where  he  had  fallen  against  a  wall,  was 
the  bleeding  body  of  her  husband-  Bravely  this  fair  young 
woman  took  from  her  own  shoulders  a  cloak  and  laid  it  across 
the  mangled  form. 

She  breathed  a  prayer,  beseeching  strength  and  courage; 
and  then  she  sought  the  place  where  lay  Augustus,  the  slain 
son.  Tenderly,  as  if  he  had  been  her  own  boy  or  brother,  she 
spread  her  apron  over  his  face. 

Then  she  followed  the  procession  which  escorted  the  bodies 
of  these  martyrs  to  their  home. 

Who  shall  speak  the  agony  of  the  ensuing  hours!  "two 
bodies,  beloved  in  life,  beloved  still  in  death,  were  resting  in 
that  stricken  house.  While  Emeline  and  Drusilla,  and  the 
little  daughters,  all  robbed  of  their  defenders,  wept  and 
moaned  in  a  torture  such  as  seldom  comes  to  womankind. 

As  she  sobbed  and  prayed,  Emeline  took  from  the  bosom  of 
her  husband  a  tiny,  blood-stained  packet.  It  contained  a  little 
flower  of  hair,  Drusilla' s,  her  own  and  Will's;  and  also  those 
slips  of  paper — the  hand  and  heart.  The  morning  when  Will 
first  went  out  to  battle,  she  and  Drusilla  had  pressed  this 
packet  upon  him  and  bade  him  wear  it  in  his  bosom. 


Emeline  pressed  the  moist  hair  flower  into  Drusilla's  hand; 
but  the  heart  and  hand,  crimson-flecked  now,  she  placed  next 
her  own  heart.  They  had  been  the  sign  of  love  in  youth  and 
rosy  life;  they  should  be  cherished  to  remind  her  of  the 
immortality  which  death  can  bring. 

This  was  almost  the  end.  EmeHne's  brave  boy,  Will  Ander- 
son, who  had  given  her  his  fidelity  in  childhood,  had  bestowed 
upon  his  country  his  fidelity  in  manhood.  To  the  oppressed 
of  his  countrymen  he  had  extended  the  help  of  his  strong 
hand;  in  their  defense  his  heart  had  been  pierced  by  a  bullet. 
He  and  his  son,  Augustus,  were  buried  at  Nauvoo. 

A  time  of  anxious  toil  ensued;  for  even  through  the  dark- 
est tragedy  runs  a  thread  of  the  commonplace.  And  in  the 
midst  of  the  anxious  commotion  and  labor  Emeline  and  Dru- 
silla  became  separated.  They  never  met  again  in  this  life; 
and  from  that  hour  Drusilla's  history  is  to  this  writer 
unknown. 

Emeline  Anderson  lived  to  emigrate  to  Utah  and  to  receive 
the  blessings  of  this  fair  land.  She  accepted  through  the 
remainder  of  this  life  the  name  of  a  worthy  man,  and  she 
reared  a  third  daughter.  She  carried  with  her  until  the  hour 
of  her  death  the  tear-stained,  blood-stained  lieart  and  hand; 
and  when  she  was  no  more,  these  hallowed  shreds  of  paper 
passed  into  the  possession  of  her  children. 

This  is  a  life  sketch.  Those  of  the  characters  who  have 
gone  seem  now  not  to  have  been  torn  away  by  the  rude 
hand  of  death,  but  to  have  fkded  gently  into  the  past,  leaving 
their  looks,  their  love,  their  loyalty  for  their  descendants. 


A  TRIP  TO    CARSON 
VALLEY. 


By  O.  B.  Huntington. 


CHAPTER    I. 


Description  of  the  Route—Object  of  the  Journey — 
Confronted  by  Indians — Discovery  of  Rubies- 
More  Indians  Visit  Camp— An  Inspired  Sugges- 
tion—The Indians  Become  Friendly. 

On  the  18th  of  September,  1854,  I  started  for  Carson  Val- 
ley, by  the  advice  and  consent  of  Brigham  Young,  and  in  the 
employ  of  Colonel  E.  J.  Steptoe  of  the  U.  S.  army. 

I  went  south  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  and  across  the  then 
unknown  deserts  where  now  are  many  towns,  villages  and  cities, 
the  settlement  of  which  was  hastened  some  years  by  that  trip 
of  exploration. 

The  city  of  Genoa,  immediately  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains,  consisting  of  about  a  dozen  or  fifteen 
houses,  was  the  only  actual  settlement  between  Grantsville  and 
Hangtown,  California,  a  distance  of  one  thousand  miles  by 
the  wagon  road  over  the  Gocse  Creek  Mountains,  which  are 
one  hundred  miles  north  of  Salt  Lake  City;  and  to  find  a 
shorter  road  so  as  to  save  this  one  hundred  miles  and  to  avoid 
the  mountains  was  the  object  of  my  journey. 


EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 


At  the  time  of  which  I  write  this  great  mouDtain  country 
of  five  hundred  miles  in  each  direction  from  Salt  Lake  City, 
was  an  almost  unknown  wilderness,  a  country  inhabited  only 
by  Indians  and  wild  game,  excepting  the  few  settlements  of 
this  people;  and  the  country  was  but  Uttle  explored,  except  so 
far  as  the  wants  of  the  people  made  it  necessary. 

Colonel  Stcptoe  was  sent  by  the  United  States  government, 
with  two  companies  of  the  U.  S.  army,  as  a  military  governor 
to  take  the  place  of  Brigham  Yoiing.  This  was  a  very  quiet, 
secret  movement  of  our  nation  to  establish  a  new  form  of 
republican  government  over  this  people;  but  thanks  to  that 
overruling,  inspirational  power  of  God  that  has  so  often  turned 
the  hearts  of  men,  and  the  good,  honest  sense  of  Col.  Steptoe, 
who,  when  he  had  spent  eight  or  nine  months  with  this  people, 
declined  the  dishonorable  and  unrepublican  office  of  military 
governor  of  Utah.  He  said  that  no  man  but  Brigham  Young 
could  govern  this  people,  "and  if  he  stepped  into  Governor 
Young's  place,  Brigham  Young  would  still  govern  the  people." 
He  therefore  decided  to  leave  for  California  as  early  in  the 
Spring  of  1855  as  he  could,  and  in  order  to  fiod  a  new  route 
through  south  of  the  Lake  he  sent  an  exploring  party  through 
to  Carson  and  back  that  Fall,  late  as  it  was. 

He  applied  to  Brigham  Young  for  suitable  persons  for  so 
arduous  and  hazardous  an  undertaking.  I  was  chosen  as  one 
and  was  furnished  an  interpreter  (my  nephew,  C.  A.  Hunting- 
ton), and  an  Indian  guide,  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Nat- 
sab,  a  son  of  the  Indian  chief  who  was  ruler  in  Salt  Lake 
Valley  when  we  first  settled  the  country — these  two  were 
designed  to  return  with  me.  Besides  these  was  Col.  John 
Reese,  now  living  in  Salt  Lake  City,  and  he  was  an  excellent 
companion.  His  home  was  in  Carson  Valley,  which  at  that 
time  was  a  part  of  Utah  Territory,  and  he  had  two  men  with 
him,  one  Willis  and  a  man  by  the  name  of  Davis,  who  had 
been  to  California,  made  a  raise,  returned  to  the  States  and 
was  now  making  his  way  west  again  with  a  very  fleet  race-horse 
in  hope  of  opening  another  "stake"  by  gambling. 

My  outfit  consisted  of  six  animals  to  ride  and  pack,  a  quantity  of 
goods  to  use  as  presents  in  making  peace  with  the  savages  we 


A  TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEY.  7^ 

might  pass  on  the  way,  a  good  compass  to  guide  us  on  cloudy 
days  in  the  deserts  and  a  good  quantity  of  provisions  and 
bedding. 

When  we  had  got  about  two  or  three  miles  from  Salt  Lake 
City  we  found  eleven  men,  formerly  of  Col.  Steptoe's  outfit  of 
teamsters,  camp-followers,  etc.,  who,  knowing  of  our  search 
for  a  short  route  to  California,  determined  to  sail  under  the 
"Mormon"  flag  as  far  as  Carson. 

I  had  no  objections,  because  their  numbers  would  lend  us 
an  appearance  of  strength  among  the  native  tribes.  They 
were  rather  poorly  mounted,  armed  and  provisioned,  which 
latter  condition  occasioned  me  eventually  some  annoyance  and 
suffering,  compelling  the  whole  company  to  live  on  horseflesh 
during  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  the  journey;  and  during 
one  day  and  night  we  were  without  even  that. 

For^some  time  nothing  of  importance  occurred  on  our  way, 
except  that  we  had  one  horse  shot  accidentally  and  one  of  our 
strangers  lost  a  mule  in  a  night  march  across  a  mud  desert. 

On  the  28th  of  September,  as  we  were  passing  through  a 
large  valley  of  meadow  land  with  scattering  bunches  of  tall 
wheat  grass  and  stools  of  greasewood,  an  lodian,  naked 
except  for  a  covering  about  his  loins,  with  gun  in  hand,  stood 
before  us  suddenly  and  stopped  our  movements  After  a  very 
short  and  unedifying  oration  he  fired  his  gun  in  the  air,  and 
instantly  there  arose  an  Indian  from  behind  every  bunch  of 
grass  and  greasewood  all  around  us  until  there  was  quite  an 
army  in  view,  and  we  saw  it  was  necessary  to  talk  in  persuasive 
tones  and  our  orders  were  enforced  with  many  presents,  in 
giving  which  the  interpreter  was  very  expert.  The  Indians 
guided  us  to  some  very  fine  springs  of  water  and  small  ponds  not 
far  distant,  where  we  distributed  quantities  of  tobacco,  pipes, 
paints,  calico,  etc. 

At  this  place  we  passed  the  night;  but  in  the  morning  the 
Indians  were  all  gone,  which  to  men  acquainted  with  Indian 
natures,  indicated  hostile  intentions,  and  we  therefore  traveled 
cautiously  to  the  west  side  of  the  valley,  where  we  nooned  at 
a  little  creek  which  came  down  out  of  a  great  range  of  moun- 
tains lying  to  the  east  of  us,  running  north  and  south  as  far 


80  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

as  we  could  see.  Here  Mr.  Davis  said  was  as  good  a  prospect 
ibr  gold  as  aoy  place  he  had  seen  in  California.  We  dug  a 
little  dirt  and  washed  it  out  and  found  several  rubies,  one  very 
laro[e  and  fine.  We  therefore  called  the  place  Ruby  Valley. 
We  soon  moved  on  south  a  few  miles;  but  feeling  forbod- 
ings  of  evil,  stopped  about  2,  p.m.,  on  a  fine,  gras>y  place 
near  a  spring  and  sent  Mr.  Davis  ahead  to  reconnoitre  the 
country,  which  was  mostly  clear  and  open  to  the  end  of  the 
valley,  about  twelve  miles  distant.  He  rode  cautiously  about 
five  miles  when,  on  looking  over  his  lefi  shoulder,  he  saw  an 
Indian  on  foot  running  towards  the  road  behind  and  dropping 
into  the  grass  as  Davis  looked  around.  He  instantly  wheeled 
his  horse  and  sped  for  camp.  Just  as  he  started  back  an 
Indian  on  horseback  started  from  some  willows  near  by  to  cut 
ofi"  his  retreat,  but  that  racehorse  outran  the  Indian  pony, 
although  the  latter  had  the  advantage. 

When  these  facts  were  known  in  camp  every  man  prepared 
for  the  worst.  We  had  chosen  an  open  piece  of  ground  where 
we  could  not  be  surprised  in  daylight.  We  were  preparing  an 
early  supper  so  as  to  have  it  over  before  any  surprise  might  be 
undertaken.  Just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  eat,  seven 
Indians  on  horseback  rode  slowly  towards  our  camp,  came  past 
our  horses  which  were  grazing  near  and  dismounted  near  our 
fires.  We  saluted  them  kindly  with  "how-de-do,"  and  they 
replied.  They  were  all  dressed  in  coats,  pants,  overcoats,  caps, 
etc  ,  and  rode  well  shod  horses,  excepting  one  short,  thick- set 
Indian,  about  twenty -three  years  old,  who  wore  buckskin 
pants,  a  hickory  shirt,  a  Panama  hat  and  with  his  hair  cut 
short  and  straight  around  his  neck;  he  was  very  wide  between 
the  eyes,  rode  a  very  large  mare  without  a  saddle.  He  came 
to  my  mess  where  I,  my  nephew  and  Nat  sab  were  just  sitting 
down  to  eat,  and  shook  hands. 

We  sat  with  guns  and  pistols  in  our  laps.  I  told  all  our 
company  to  be  very  careful,  as  this  one  could  talk  English. 
The  interpreter  tried  to  talk  with  him,  but  to  no  efi'ect  until 
he  spoke  in  the  Snake  language,  when  he  answered  some. 
They  were  observing  our  actions,  habits,  etc.,  and  making 
their  calculations  how  and  when  to  take  our  scalps.     I  felt  that 


A  TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEY.  81 

under  the  Panama  hat  was  a  dreadful  chief  for  blood  and 
plunder,  and  that  he  could  talk  English;  and  I  was  right  in 
my  judgment  or  feelings. 

As  soon  as  the  interpreter  and  I  were  done  eating,  we  walked 
around  the  horses  after  cautioning  the  men.  While  driving 
the  animals  a  little  nearer  camp  he  asked  me  if  I  had  noticed 
a  secret  sign,  a  strange  motion,  the  Indian  made  as  he  shook 
hands  with  us,  and  he  showed  it  to  me,  stating  that  he  believed 
these  Indians  were  of  the  tribe  and  party  who  had  done  so 
many  murders  on  the  Humboldt,  among  the  California  gold 
seekers,  and  that  he  believed  they  were  banded  with  whites  by 
secret  oaths,  signs  and  pass-words.  Immediately  after  he 
told  this  I  felt  a  strange  but  bright  sensation  come  over  my 
mind  and  I  could  see  with  my  heart,  or  my  spirit  could  see 
without  my  eyes.  I  told  him  we  would  leave  the  horses  and 
go  quickly  to  camp,  where  he  should  go  up  to  that  Indian 
(the  chief ),  give  him  the  same  sign  he  had  given  us,  and  that 
we  would  then  be  safe  among  them. 

He  did  this  and  the  effect  was  astonishing.  The  Indian 
shook  hands  and  hugged  him  heartily. 

I  gave  further  instructions  to  the  interpreter  what  to  say 
about  a  certain  man  whom  we  knew  lived  on  the  Humboldt 
River,  where  so  much  murdering  had  been  done,  and  with 
whom  I  went  to  school  in  Nauvoo.  Every  word  had  its  effect 
as  I  anticipated,  and  the  chief  understood  that  this  man  who 
lived  on  the  Humboldt,  and  whom  very  many  believed  to  be 
the  cause  of  all  the  murdering  done  there  for  money  and  plun- 
der, was  our  friend  from  boyhood;  but  the  opposite  might  be 
said  to  be  nearly  true,  as  we  held  no  sympathy  in  common, 
although  we  had  been  boys  together.  The  chief  called  that 
man  his  "daddy,"  meaning  father.  • 


CHAPTER  11. 


Indians'  Stratagem  to  get  one  of  our  Horses— Pro- 
ceed ON  OUR  Way— How  Inspiration  is  Received 
— An  Illustrative  Incident. 

We  will  now  leave  these  few  Indians  and  seventeen  white 
men,  all  in  peaceful,  friendly  chat,  and  go  back  to  the  15ih  of 
September,  1 854— three  days  before  we  left  Salt  Lake  City. 

On  the  corner  of  East  Temple  Street,  just  two  blocks  south 
of  the  Temple  site  was  a  cottonwood  log,  on  which  two  youcg 
men  were  sitting  in  earnest  conversation.  One  was  about 
twenty-four  years  old,  a  very  tall,  muscular  man,  not  less  than 
six  feet,  two  inches  in  height,  with  black  eyes,  set  wide  apart 
under  a  heavy  forehead  and  over  high  cheek  bones.  The 
whole  countenance  indicated  a  cruel  and  heartless  disposition. 
The  other  young  man  was  just  twenty  years  old,  medium 
height,  with  a  well  formed  body,  small,  sharp,  twinkling  blue 
eyes,  regular  features  and  a  rather  large  head. 

They  had  been  quarreling;  and  when  they  arose  from  the 
log  it  was  agreed  that  the  one  who  crossed  the  other  s  path 
should  die! 

The  older  man  was  to  start  for  his  lone  log  house  on  the 
Humboldt,  about  sixty  miles  from  Kuby  Valley,  in  a  week  or 
two,  by  way  of  Goose  Creek  Mountains;  and  the  young  man 
was  to  start  just  three  days  from  that  time  for  Carson  Valley, 
as  Indian  interpreter  for  a  IT.  S.  exploring  company,  traveling 
west  from  Salt  Lake  City.  When  we  told  "Bloody  Chief," 
for  such  was  the  name  of  the  chief  who  visited  our  camp,  that 
we  were  special  friends  to  the  bad  young  man  we  thought  not 
of  the  terrible  consequences  that  might  result  from  that  deceit- 
ful stratagem  to  save  our  lives  then.  We  told  the  Indians 
frankly  that  we  were  coming  back  in  a  little  more  than  one 
moon,  but  did  not  tell  them  there  would  be  but  three  of  us. 


came  into  our  camp  without  a  gun,  pistol,  bow  or  arrow.  All 
were  merry  and  jolly,  and  traded  everything  they  could,  and 
ran  foot-races.  Tbey  wanted  to  run  horses,  but  ours  had  too 
long  a  journey  before  them  to  admit  of  racing.  The  main 
object  and  effort  of  the  Indians  was  to  get  that  race-horse, 
but  they  did  not  succeed.  They  escorted  us  about  eight  miles 
on  our  way  and  told  us  all  they  could  of  the  country  ahead  in 
the  direction  we  wanted  to  go.  They  showed  us  a  great  deal 
of  gold  and  silver  coin,  jewelry  and  pocket-knives,  which  they 
doubtless  obtained  by  killing  people  on  the  Humboldt. 

We  left  the  valley  at  the  south  end,  passing  over  a  low 
divide  and  through  a  narrow,  rocky  canyon,  full  of  scattering 
cedar  trees,  making  as  nice  a  place  for  ambush  as  an  Indian 
could  ask  for  the  massacre  of  whites. 

Many  incidents  occurred  worthy  of  note  in  a  mere  narrative; 
but  as  I  design  to  show  the  inspiration  of  the  Lord  in  our 
preservation,  I  shall  only  give  so  much  of  our  journey  as  is 
necessary  to  bring  you  to  the  circumstances  in  an  easy  and 
natural  way.  All  of  God's  works  are  done  in  a  natural  way; 
and  He  applies  a  law  in  one  instance  which  would  not  do  in 
another.  The  inspiration  of  Grod  to  different  men  and  to  the 
same  man  in  different  ways  is  a  maUer  upon  which  I  desire  to 
enlarge  some  little.  Sometimes  an  idea  is  received  in  the  mind 
that  is  foreign  to  anything  that  ever  existed  there  before.  The 
person  follows  that  idea,  which  is  so  new  and  to  him  unusual,  aLd 
develops  a  wonderful  piece  of  machinery  or  a  principle  in 
philosophy,  manufacturing  or  something  otherwise  useful  to 
man.  That  idea  came  as  other  ideas,  he  will  say;  but  I  am  of 
the  opinion  that  it  is  the  inspiration  of  Grod  that  brings  out  of 
chaos  the  very  useful  inventions  and  discoveries — this  is  the 
simplest  form  of  inspiration. 

Another  man  is  perhaps  laboring,  as  usual,  in  the  field  and  is 
suddenly  inclined  in  his  feelings  to  go  to  his  house.  Perhaps 
he  tries  to  smother  the  feeling,  but  finally  yields  and  reaches 
home  just  in  time  to  extinguish  a  fire  that  would  certainly 
have  consumed  his  house  if  he  had  not  gone  just  as  he 
did. 


84  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

The  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  given  to  all  who 
obey  the  p:ospel  by  baptism  and  the  laying  on  of  hands  of  the 
Elders,  was  promised  by  the  Lord  to  every  one  that  earnestly 
and  sincerely  repents  of  his  sins  and  obeys  the  gospel,  and  "it 
shall  guide  him  into  all  truth." 

I  will  tell  you,  my  young  friends,  how  that  Holy  Ghost  will 
guide  you.  If,  when  you  are  made  clean  from  sin  by  baptism, 
you  do  not  willingly  enter  again  into  sin,  pray  often,  keep  the 
Sabbath  day  holy,  always  try  as  earnestly  as  you  can  to  be  a 
peacemaker,  help  every  institution  of  Zion,  cheerfully  obey 
every  call  of  the  Lord  through  those  who  have  the  authority 
from  God  to  call,  and  live  lives  of  purity  in  every  way,  that 
Holy  Ghost  will  be  in  you  all  the  time  and  influence  you  in  all 
your  thoughts,  words  and  actions,  bring  to  your  mind  things 
forgotten  when  you  need  them,  and  suggest  to  your  mind 
principle  and  doctrine,  when  really  necessary,  that  has  never 
been  taught  you  in  this  life,  bat  which  you  knew  before  you 
came  to  this  world. 

I  will  mention  another  incident  of  inspiration  in  my  own 
experience,  difierent  from  the  one  already  related  concerning 
the  secret  sign  among  the  Indians. 

In  1867,  I  had  a  friend  who  was  going  to  San  Bernardino, 
California,  and  was  to  start  on  the  second  day  after  the  follow- 
ing conversation  between  us: 

"Oliver,  come  and  go  to  California  with  me." 

"I  cannot." 

"Yes  you  can;  you  can  go  as  well  as  not." 

"I  have  nothing  to  leave  for  the  support  of  my  family 
during  the  Winter;"  (I  having  been  sick  for  five  or  six  months, 
and  unable  to  earn  anything.) 

"I'll  lend  you  what  money  you  want,"  said  he. 

"Well,  I  cannot  go,  and  there  is  no  use  thinking  or  talking 
about  it,"  I  finally  replied. 

That  evening  I  was  going  home  and  thinking  of  my  family 
affairs,  but  nothing  about  going  with  my  friend.  A  voice, 
sounding  as  though  it  was  about  a  foot  from  my  left  ear,  whis- 
pered: 

"Go  with  Hyrum  to  California." 

The  voice  was  as  distinct  as  any  I  ever  heard,  and  I  half 


A    TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLLEY.  85 

turned  to  see  if  anyone  was  there,  but  saw  no  one;  and  after 
debating  a  short  time  in  my  mind  decided  that  I  must  not 
refuse,  and  I  said  mentally,  "Well,  I  will." 

The  next  day  I  saw  Hyrum  and  told  him  I  would  go  with 
him  and  I  wanted  fifty  dollars  to  leave  with  my  wife.  He 
handed  me  the  money  and  I  started  with  him  on  the  following 
morning. 

My  health  improved  all  the  way  there.  I  worked  at  car- 
penter work  all  Winter  and  returned  in  the  Spring,  a  sound, 
healthy  man. 

Other  advantages  and  information  gained  while  gone,  prove 
to  me  that  I  was  inspired  or  told  to  go  and  do  the  very  thing 
that  was  necessary  for  my  present  salyation.  It  was  a  very 
important  mission  to  me;  and  how  important  no  mortal  but 
myself  knows. 


CHAPTER  III. 


Out  of  Provisions— Live  on  Horse  Flesh— Arrival 
AT  Carson— Start  back  for  Home— Description  of 
the  Journey— Aided  by  Red  Men — Meet  with  more 
Indians— Our  Manner  of  Dealing  with  them. 

Three  days  after  leaving  our  newly-made  friends,  the  Indians, 
we  were  on  a  hard  desert,  where  in  one  place  we  crossed  a 
field  of  crystalized  mineral  of  some  kind,  which  had  the 
appearance  of  ice,  and  rode  our  horses  safely  over  it.  That 
night,  on  the  same  desert,  one  of  the  fattest  horses  in  the 
company  failed  and  was  left  just  before  we  had  crossed  the 
desert,  and  it  was  nearly  morning  when  we  camped.  At  day- 
light I  sent  for  the  horse  to  eat,  as  we  were  then  out  of  pro- 
visions. 

The  uninvited  increase  of  the  company  had  very  small 
rations  at  starting,  and  when  their  food  was  exhausted  I  fed 


80  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 

them  until  there  was  nothing  left  to  eat  for  any  of  us,  then 
we  killed  the  horse  and  lived  on  its  flesh  for  one  week. 

Two  days  after  killing  the  hor^e  we  were  on  another  desert 
and  traveled  until  far  into  the  night,  for  we  could  see  no  end 
to  the  desert;  and  since  living  on  horseflesh  for  food  we 
crowded  the  animals  to  make  the  hest  time  possible  to  get 
where  better  food  could  be  had,  and  more  water,  for  we  found 
water  scarce  and  both  men  and  beasts  were  in  a  suff*ering  con- 
dition. About  2  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  stop  was  made  to 
rest  the  animals,  for  they  had  neither  food  nor  water  for  over 
twenty-four  hours.  The  saddles  were  removed  and  the  ani- 
mals were  turned  loose  in  the  desert,  where  neither  bush,  stick 
nor  grass  could  be  seen.  Being  loosened,  the  animals  all  began 
feeding  on  something,  though  we  could  see  nothing.  We  set 
out  a  guard,  as  usual.  In  the  morning  we  found  the  horses 
feeding  on  a  weed  or  grass  of  a  wine  co'or,  about  four  inches 
high,  covering  in  area  about  eight  acres,  and  nowhere  else  did 
we  ever  see  any  more  of  that  kind  of  feed. 

We  reached  Carson  on  the  15th  of  October.  We  could  not 
start  back  until  word  could  be  got  to  and  from  San  Francisco. 
It  was  getting  late  in  the  season  and  we  soon  began  to  feel 
uneasy  about  the  Winter  snows  we  might  encounter,  but  I 
had  thought  of  this  all  the  way  and  took  such  notes  of  the 
route  as  would  enable  me  to  recognize  the  way  again  even  if 
the  mountains  should  ba  covered  with  snow.  I  kept  what 
sailors  would  call  a  '  'log  book, ' '  in  which  was  written  a  regu- 
lar description  of  every  landscape — certain- shaped  mountains 
here,  a  grove  of  cedars  there,  etc.;  and  at  every  turn  of  the 
road,  consulted  the  compass,  noting  the  various  directions,  and 
had  some  certain  land-marks  at  each  turn,  wiih  estimates  of 
distances  between  points. 

While  not  otherwise  engaged  in  Genoa,  as  it  is  now  called, 
I  made  a  map  of  the  road  we  had  traveled,  noting  every 
watering-place,  desert,  mountain,  grove  of  timber,  plot  of 
grass,  etc.,  not  forgetting  to  mark  my  distances  as  well  as  the 
points  of  compass. 

While  at  Genoa,  Natsab,  the  Indian,  left  me  one  night  and 
gtarted  home  on  foot  and  alone  and  made  his  way  in  safety. 


A   TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEY.  87 

It  was  a  week  before  I  found  which  way  he  had  gone,  and 
feared  much  that  the  Indians  there  had  killed  him.  I  saw 
him  after  I  arrived  home  and  asked  his  reason  for  leaving  me 
without  notice.  He  said  he  was  afraid  we  would  have  to  stay 
all  Winter;  and  that  if  I  had  known  he  was  going  to  leave 
I  would  stop  him  and  make  him  stay  too,  and  that  was  too 
long  to  live  among  the  whites;  he  would  have  got  sick  and 
perhaps  died. 

At  last  the  word  came  from  San  Francisco,  and  a  man  also 
to  go  with  us  to  Salt  Lake,  which  was  very  acceptable.  Col. 
Reece  resolved  to  fit  up  two  men  besides  himself  and  accom- 
pany me  one  or  two  hundred  miles,  just  to  explore  the  country; 
for  of  the  route  we  were  to  take  nothing  was  known  by  white 
men,  and  we  were  all  enthusiastic  to  search  the  unexplored 
regions. 

On  November  2,  1854,  I  started  for  home,  wiib  five  ani- 
mals for  my  own  outfit  of  myself  and  the  interpreter.  Our 
through  friend  and  partner  for  the  trip  back,  Mr.  Kinsey,  had 
two  horses,  thus  making  seven  well-loaded  animals  for  three 
men  to  take  care  of.  One  large  mule  carried  a  keg  of  water 
as  a  reserve  for  times  of  distress.  We  each  carried  a  canteen 
of  water  on  our  saddles  as  we  rode;  and  several  times  our  riding 
horses  would,  when  our  canteens  were  only  partly  full  so  that 
the  water  would  sound  as  the  motion  of  their  bodies  shook 
them,  turned  and  hunted  for  the  water  and  whinnyed  coax- 
ingly  for  a  little  sup  of  the  water  they  had  carried  so  long. 

Carson  River,  at  which  point  Mr.  Davis  overtook  us,  sinks 
or  empties  into  a  lake  of  its  own,  which  is  about  twenty  miles 
across.  Around  the  lake  is  a  very  flat  and  large  extent 
of  country,  wet  and  marshy,  which  affords  great  quantities  of 
a  grass  known  as  "bay6net  grass;"  this  yields  tufts  or  bunches 
of  black,  rich  seed  that  the  Indians  manage  to  cut  and  dry  and 
then  thresh  or  pound  out  the  seed  for  their  Winter's  bread. 
We  saw  many  large-sized  stacks  of  the  remains  of  their 
threshing  at  their  threshing-floors,  which  were  mostly  inacces- 
sible to  horses,  being  on  small,  dry  places  in  the  midst 
of  the  sodded  marshes  that  yield  the  grass. 

Afler  passing  around  the  south  end  of  the  lake  we  crossed 
a  low  divide  and  entered  a  new  valley  some  thirty  miles  from 


ruiiiiig  uiiis  ui  sauu  uiuwu  up  uy  iiie  wiuu,  «ume  peruaps 
twenty  feet  high  and  covering  from  a  half  to  a  full  acre  of 
ground.  In  passing  among  these  hills  and  valleys  I  saw  the 
heads  of  two  Indians  who  had  not  yet  seen  us.  I  took  in  the 
whole  situation  at  a  glance:  a  large  alkali  desert  was  before  us 
in  which  was  no  water,  while  that  we  had  in  stf^re  was  small 
and  poor.  Those  Indians  were  not  there  without  water  being 
near,  and  if  we  could  get  them  we  could  perhaps  induce  them 
to  find  or  show  us  water.  Our  horses  in  the  sand  made  no 
noise  traveling,  so  we  started  at  our  best  speed  and  soon  over- 
took those  whom  we  wanted  as  guides.  They  took  us  to 
water,  though  very  reluctantly,  and  indeed  not  until  they 
understood  that  they  must  do  so. 

We  would  never  have  found  the  water  of  ourselves;  for  the 
spring  was  in  the  top  of  a  little  elevation  that  covered  perhaps 
five  acres  in  the  center  of  a  valley.  The  spring  was  round  and 
perhaps  five  feet  across.  It  gave  a  rapid  supply  of  water,  but 
had  no  visible  outlet.  The  Indians  had  fenced  it  with  tall 
greasewood  brush  stuck  in  the  ground  as  thick  as  they  could 
put  it,  except  at  an  opening  about  eight  inches  wide  which 
would  permit  rabbits  to  enter,  where  they  were  trapped.  A 
pit  about  two  and  one- half  feet  deep  was  dug  in  this  opening 
and  a  strong,  wiry  sand-grass  was  fastened  on  either  side  of 
the  hole  so  that  the  ends  would  overlap  at  the  center  of 
the  hole  or  pit,  making  an  apparent  smooth  floor.  When  a 
rabbit  jumped  on  it  went  down  into  the  pit,  which  had  no 
water  in  it.  The  grass  readily  sprang  back  to  its  place  and 
was  prepared  for  another  rabbit.  This  continued  until  the  pit 
was  full,  for  it  was  so  narrow  and  deep  there  was  no  chance  to 
jump  out.  Three  similar  pits,  at  a  distance  from  the  spring, 
was  prepared  for  antelope. 

We  camped  here,  used  the  greasewood  for  cooking  supper 
and  refreshed  our  horses.  We  kept  the  Indians  all  night  with 
us  so  they  could  not  notify  others,  who  would  perhaps  prove 
dangerous.  It  was  the  intention  to  take  them  a  day  on  the 
journey,  but  they  escaped  when  we  were  not  watching  them. 
We  traveled,  after  getting  a  full  supply  of  water,  all  that  day. 


wiiiiDUt  any  rewi.  CAuept  tiiaij  gui  uy  aiuppiug  tu  eat   aiiu  uriUK. 

and  tend  the  animals.  This  long  journey  was  necessary  in 
order  to  find  grass  and  water. 

About  half  or  three-quarters  of  a  mile  before  coming  to 
the  water  our  animals  began  to  crowd  ahead— pull  on  the  bit 
— which  surprised  us  all,  as  there  were  no  signs  of  water,  such 
as  willows,  trees  or  grass,  in  sight  to  attract  our  attention, 
nothing  but  the  smooth  desert  of  small,  short  desert  brush, 
with  occasional  fields  of  sage  brush.  Suddenly  our  animals 
stopped  at  a  little,  swift-running  brook  not  more  than  two  or 
three  feet  wide. 

Here  we  rested,  watered  and  prepared  for  our  journey. 
Towards  evening  we  moved  about  two  miles  to  some  low  sand 
hills,  which  generally  afford  an  excellent  grass  called  sand-grass. 
The  next  day  we  spent  in  trying  to  get  more  easterly  over  the 
mountains,  but  failed. 

The  second  day  after  watering  we  would  gladly  have  passed 
through  the  range  of  mountains  by  a  canyon;  but  thinking  it 
impossible,  had  started  on  north  again  nearly  a  mile,  when 
someone  called  behind  us.  On  looking  around  we  saw  two 
Indians  running  towards  us.  We  waited  until  they  came  up. 
They  then  enquired  where  we  were  going,  and  on  being  told, 
said  we  would  all  die  if  we  continued  in  that  direction  for  it 
was  three  days'  travel  to  water.  They  led  us  to  water  in  the 
mountains  and  stayed  with  us  that  night  and  were  well  pleased 
with  their  newly-made  friends,  but  not  more  so  than  we  were; 
for  they  seemed  more  like  kind  old  friends,  and  in  the  parting 
got  their  full  share  of  presents. 

On  that  camp  ground  I  set  the  compass,  but  to  my  surprise 
one  end  of  the  needle  dropped  down  and  remained  thus. 
Move  the  needle  where  I  would  it  did  the  same.  We  were  on 
a  mountain  of  iron  and  probably  some  magnetic  ore  was 
near. 

The  next  day  was  the  12th  of  November,  1854,  and  by  favor 
of  one  of  these  good  red  men  we  got  through  the  mountains 
to  a  fine,  large  spring  creek,  and  there  camped.  Now,  who 
can  deny  the  hand  of  the  Lord  d^udi  His  power  in  sending  these 


90  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

natives  with  softened  hearts  to  call  us  from  certain  death  and 
kindly  bring  us  through  to  these  beautiful  pprings?  None  of 
us  did;  even  the  Gentiles  with  us  acknowledged  His  hand  in 
that  act  of  the  savage  Indian. 

The  next  morning,  Col.  E-eece,  with  his  two  men,  left  us 
and  turned  south  to  explore  three  or  four  days  in  that  direc- 
tion and  then  turn  westward  on  their  course  home.  During 
this  journey  he  made  the  very  important  discovery  of  the 
Reece  River  and  country  now  so  profitable  to  the  State  of 
Nevada. 

We  continued  our  course  east  one  day  and  a  half,  and  then 
struck  the  southern  extremity  of  our  outward  route,  which 
was  a  very  plain  trail  at  that  place  and  was  just  at  the  foot  of 
a  long  slope  approaching  a  high,  rocky,  rugged  mountain, 
over  which  we  had  to  pass. 

Indians  and  snow-storms  were  alike  a  dread  to  us  to  encoun- 
ter; and  the  former  were  now  before  us  when  within  about 
half  a  mile  of  the  mouth  of  a  very  narrow,  rocky  canyon. 
They  had  the  advantage  of  us,  for  they  were  nearest  the  rocks 
that  overhung  the  road  and  were  on  the  run  in  a  half  bent 
posture  when  first  seen  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  but  they 
straightened  and  sprang  to  the  race  right  manfully  when  once 
in  sight,  until  they  were  safe  among  the  rocks,  where  they 
took  positions  of  safety,  only  exposing  their  heads. 

We  approached  slowly,  all  the  while  consulting  as  to  what 
was  the  best  policy  to  pursue.  We  did  not  want  to  go  around 
the  mountain  to  the  south,  for  of  the  distance  we  knew 
nothing,  and  to  fight  we  were  afraid;  for  numbers  and  position 
were  against  us,  there  being  only  four  of  us  and  seven  we 
could  see  of  them.  Speaking  of  four  of  us  reminds  me  that 
when  eighty  miles  from  Genoa,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Davis 
came  to  us  from  California,  having  heard  of  the  exploring 
party  going  to  Salt  Lake.  He  had  a  very  large  herd  of  sheep 
en  route  for  California,  which  was  obliged  to  Winter  in  Utah, 
and  being  anxious  to  join  it  he  was  willing  to  take  chances 
with  us. 

The  most  feasible  plan  now  was  to  make  friends  of  them 
with  presents.     This  being  decided  upon  we  concluded  to  try 


A  TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEY.  91 

it,  and  if  it  failed  we  must  try  to  force  a  passage.  We  consoled 
ourselves  with  the  saying,  "a  coward  cornered  is  the  worst 
man  in  the  world  to  fi^ht."  By  some  means,  however,  we 
expected,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  to  get  through. 

After  talking  and  preaching  to  the  natives  half  an  hour  or 
more  the  interpreter  allured  them  down  near  us — so  near  that 
presents,  small  articles  we  had  on  our  persons,  were  given  them 
by  one  of  us  while  the  other  three  guarded  against  any  treach- 
erous surprise.  They  were  then  told  to  go  with  us  to  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  where  we  would  camp  for  the  night  and  we 
would  there  give  them  more  valuable  articles  which  were  on 
the  horse.  They  finally  consented  and  told  us  to  go  on  ahead; 
but  feeling  safer  with  their  backs  to  us  than  ours  to  them  we 
succeeded  in  having  them  take  the  lead.  They  were  strong, 
fierce,  desperate-looking  men,  and  we  did  not  care  to  give  them 
any  advantage  over  us,  so  we  kept  our  eyes  on  them  and  our 
hands  on  our  guns,  even  after  we  had  camped  at  a  nice  spring 
in  a  large  opening  in  the  top  of  the  mountain. 

Our  greatest  safety  against  these  and  other  Indians  that 
might  be  lurking  around,  was  to  take  their  bows  and  arrows 
into* our  possession,  which  we  did  very  quietly  after  giving  the 
promised  gifts.  They  looked  rather  sorry  at  seeing  them- 
selves entirely  in  our  power.  .  \* 

For  our  future  safety  I  thought  it  best  to  teach  our  neigh- 
bors a  lesson  in  gun  tactics,  for  we  felt  sure  their  knowledge  of 
guns  was  limited  to  hearsay,  they  were  so  very  wild  and 
unacquainted  with  white  men.  My  plan  was  as  follows:  I 
went  into  a  narrow  ravine  well  out  of  sight,  cut  a  couple  of 
leaves  out  of  my  memorandum  book,  doubled  tbem,  shot  a 
hole  through  the  center  and  then  cut  them  in  two.  One  of 
these  I  secretly  gave  to  Mr.  Kicsey.  The  interpreter  and  I 
then  got  into  high  words.  The  Indians  wanted  to  know  what 
we  were  talking  about.  He  told  them  that  I  thought  I  could 
beat  him  shooting.  They  manifested  much  interest  in  the 
matter.  I  took  a  leaf  from  my  book,  folded  and  cut  it  exactly 
like  the  first  and  put  it  in  the  split  of  a  stick  about  three  feet 
long,  gave  this  to  Mr.  Kinsey,  all  in  plain  view  of  the 
natives,  and  he  put  it  up  about  one  third  of  a  mile  off",  but 


92  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 


e^chaDged  papers  on  the  way  and  substituted  the  one  with  a 
bole  in  the  center. 

The  interpreter  shot  with  a  dragoon  revolver  and  sent  an 
Indian  for  the  mark.  He  came  back  on  the  nun  and  talking 
as  hard  as  he  could.  The  Indians  all  joined  in  the  talk  but 
superstitiousl}^  avoided  touching  the  paper. 

I  could  not,  of  course,  shoot  better  than  that  and  therefore 
did  not  try;  besides,  it  was  getting  dark. 

The  following  morning,  which  was  the  17th  of  November, 
one  of  the  natives  volunteered  to  go  with  us,  saying  that  he 
*  'lived  over  that  way. ' '  He  ran  on  foot  by  the  side  of  our 
horses  all  day  and  we  rode  most  of  the  time  on  the  gallop. 

That  night,  about  1  o'clock,  the  Indian  ran  away  from  the 
guard — one  man  with  gun  in  hand — and  got  clear  with  his  life 
and  two  blankets  that  were  not  his. 

In  the  morning  we  found  his  tracks  in  the  trail  ahead  of  us 
and  we  Tvere  sati.-fied  that  evil  was  designed  against  us.  We 
were  but  a  day-and-a-half 's  ride  from  the  south  end  of  Ruby 
Valley,  and  two  and  one- half  days'  ride  from  the  north  end, 
where  most  of  the  Indians  were. 

That  day,  at  noon,  we  came  to  water  on  a  high  ridge,  from 
which  I  could  see  a  canyon  pass  through  the  mountains  at  the 
north  end  of  Ruby  Valley,  which  lay  north  by  north-east  from 
us,  and  the  south  end  nearly  east,  leaving  a  great  angle  or 
elbow  for  us  to  make,  which  was  an  object  to  save.  From  one 
place  only  on  this  high  ridge  could  be  seen  this  low  place  in 
the  distant  mountains;  and  as  soon  as  my  eyes  rested  on  it  the 
idea  was  given  me  that  we  could  get  through  that  pass  and 
save  a  great  distance,  and  what  else  it  might  save  I  did  not 
know,  unless  it  was  our  hair.  I  at  once  informed  the  men  of 
the  gap  in  the  mountains  and  my  idea  that  it  was  best  to  travel 
that  way;  they  agreed  with  me.  We  turned  our  horses  that 
way  and  every  one  of  us  felt  right  sure  then  that  in  the  plan 
was  our  safety. 

We  traveled  that  afternoon  and  until  perhaps  12  o'clock  in 
the  night  and  camped  on  a  creek  at  the  foot  of  the  gap,  prob- 
ably ten  miles  from  the  top,  where  we  made  neither  light  nor 
noise. 


A  TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEY.  93 


CHAPTER    IV. 


Premonitions  of  Danger— Learn  of  an  Attempt  to  Kill 
us— An  Indian's  Advice — Undecided  about  what 
Course  to  take — Appeal  to  the  Lord — Prayer 
Answered — Reach  Home  in  Safety. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  19th  we  were  in  motion,  fear- 
ing that  that  day  might  bring  the  greatest  trial  of  our  lives. 
Right  on  the  divide  we  met  about  fifteen  old  men,  women  and 
children,  but  none  that  could  draw  the  bow  in  battle  were 
there.  The  interpreter,  who  was  well  versed  in  Indian 
policies  and  tactics,  said: 

"There,  boys,  that  tells  the  story — not  a  warrior  here  and 
these  are  sent  off  out  of  danger." 

We  came  out  into  the  valley  about  2  o'clock  very  still,  slow 
and  cautious,  but  saw  no  signs  of  life  near.  We  had  to  ride 
hard  so  that,  if  possible,  we  might  get  across  the  valley  unob- 
served. We  succeeded,  and  just  as  the  sun  was  setting  we 
reached  a  little  basin  or  valley  among  low  hills  on  our  old  trail, 
where  there  was  a  fine  spring  of  water.  We  looked  carefully 
all  over  the  country  behind  us  as  we  left  the  valley,  but  saw 
no  signs  of  life  except  many  smokes. 

Our  hearts  nearly  came  to  a  standstill  as  we  turiTed  the 
ridge  down  into  the  little  basin,  at  the  sight  of  seven  Indians 
on  the  run  for  the  water.  We  had  to  have  the  right  of  water 
even  if  necessary  to  fight  for  it;  and  we  started  on  the  run. 
The  ground  was  so  open  that  we  could  see  no  point  of  advan- 
tage the  Indians  could  gain  by  getting  to  water  first,  so  we 
rode  more  leisurely  and  we  came  together  at  the  spring. 

As  they  appeared  in  every  motion  to  be  friendly,  we  dis- 
mounted, threw  off  our  saddles  and  packs  as  though  we  were 
at  home,  never  forgetting  to  keep  our  eyes  open  and  revolvers 


would  talk  we  could  be  friends  and  learn  something. 

When  the  oldest  man  had  smoked,  he  asked  in  astonish- 
ment how  we  got  there. 

The  interpreter  said:     "We  rode  here  on  our  horses." 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "I  saw  you  do  that;  but  what 
road  did  you  come?" 

He  was  told,  and  replied: 

"That  is  the  only  way  you  could  come." 

"Why?" 

Then  he  went  on  to  tell  us  that  the  Indian,  Natsab,  who  ran 
away  in  Carson,  had  passed  there  telling  when  he  thought  we 
would  be  along.  The  Bloody  Chief  we  saw  in  the  valley 
going  out  came  all  through  the  valley,  calling  the  men 
to  the  rocky  canyon  that  leads  out  of  the  valley  and 
there  they  thought  to  kill  us  all  and  divide  the  spoils,  expect- 
ing the  whole  seventeen  men  to  return. 

"Why  didn't  you  go?"  was  asked. 

The  old  man  fumbled  among  his  rags  and  pulled  out  a  piece 
of  tobacco  about  one  and  one-half  inches  square  and  said,  '  'I 
showed  him  that  tobacco  and  told  him  you  gave  me  it,  and  I 
could  not  fight  you  as  long  as  that  lasted." 

"What  if  thai  had  all  been  gone?"  was  asked. 

The  old  man  had  as  mild  and  pleasant  eyes  as  I  ever  saw  in 
an  Indian's  head,  and  he  raised  them  with  as  much  honesty 
and  simplicity  as  a  child,  after  looking  in  the  fire  a  minute, 
and  said: 

"I  don't  know  what  I  would  have  done." 

Bis  heart  seemed  to  correspond  with  his  eye. 

The  six  men  with  him  were  his  sons  and  sons-in-law.  He 
kept  them  from  going  to  fight  us.  Hi-i  camp  was  about  a 
mile  from  the  spring.  After  talking  awhile  we  tried  the  "long 
shot' '  game  on  them  and  found  the  paper  shot  through  the 
center  as  before.  We  wanted  to  impress  all  Indians  with  the 
belief  that  when  they  fousjht  us,  the  farther  ofi"  they  could  get 
the  safer  they  would  be. 

Then  we  smoked  again  and  all  had  lunch.     The  Indians  got 


"I  do  not  know  whether  they  will  get  track  of  you  before 
mornmg  or  not;  but  they  will  get  oa  your  track,"  said  the 
mild- eyed  man.  *'You  must  not  let  the  sun  see  you  here. 
To-morrow  when  the  sun  looks  down  from  behind  the  top  of 
that  mountain  you  must  be  a  long  way  from  here.  Ride  hard 
all  day;  and  when  night  comes,  don't  stop  riding,  but  ride 
hard  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  you  will  be  in  the  Goshute 
land  and  they  will  not  follow  you  there.  They  have  long  been 
wanting  your  meat,  and  when  they  find  only  your  tracks  they 
will  ride  Uke  the  wind. ' ' 

When  he  had  done  talking,  they  all  arose  with  a  mild  dig- 
nity, wrapped  their  remnants  of  blankets  around  them,  turned 
their  faces  towards  their  home  among  the  cedars  and  none 
looked  around,  except  the  mild-eyed  man,  who  gave  us  a 
look  of  mingled  pity  and  hope,  then  nodded  his  head  towards 
their  home,  gave  a  motion  of  the  hand  and  a  prolonged  sigh, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "I'm  going  home  to  sleep." 

The  old  man's  advice  to  us  was  carefully  1  olio  wed.  I  exam- 
ined my  journal  and  notes  of  the  country  before  we  started. 
The  whole  day's  travel  was  over  a  level  country  from  one  val- 
ley to  another,  with  no  high  divide  or  hardly  a  separating  hill; 
but  at  noon  I  found  myself  lost,  in  spite  of  all  my  care  and 
even  extra  caution  preparatory  for  such  an  important  day.  I 
could  not  find  any  lack  of  attention  in  myself  and  no  respon- 
sibility was  upon  any  other  person  in  the  matter — the  route 
was  very  plain,  and  yet  I  had  gone  to  the  left  of  a  mountain 
instead  of  to  the  right.  I  knew  where  we  were,  although 
there  was  no  trail  on  either  route,  yet  I  knew  we  had  taken  the 
wrong  side  of  the  mountain.  I  was  afraid  of  the  result  and 
questioned  whether  it  would  give  our  pursuers  any  advantage. 
Should  we  turn  back  or  go  ahead?  was  another  question. 

Our  lives  was  the  game  we  were  playing  for  that  day,  and 
the  responsibility  of  correct  moves  was  upon  me.  The  thought 
made  me  sweat  like  rain.  I  told  all  the  men  and  asked  them 
to  ride  slowly,  very  slowly,  while  T  rode  up  the  mountain  to  see  if 
I  could  make  any  discovery.      I  rode  to  a  good,  secure  place 


96  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES, 

and  there  knelt  upon  the  ground  and,  with  my  whole  soul, 
asked  God  to  show  me  what  to  do  in  this  trying  time  of  uncer- 
tainty. 

I  arose  and  mounted  my  horse,  fully  satisfied.  I  knew  how 
it  would  terminate.  An  impression,  a  feeling,  some  would 
call  it,  made  me  understand  this:  "Gro  on;  you  will  come  out 
all  right;"  that  is,  keep  going  as  you  are  going,  and  jou  will 
come  around  to  the  right  place,  was  what  it  meant. 

Some  might  ask,  How  did  j^ou  get  that  information?  I  can 
only  tell  you  that  it  was  spoken  in  those  words  to  my  soul. 
It  was  planted  instantly  in  my  understanding  by  the  power  of 
God.     It  was  revealed  to  my  spirit  independent  of  the  body. 

I  rode  down  and  overtook  my  fellow-travelers  in  perfect 
cheer  and  told  them  that  wc  would  go  on,  we  were  going  just 
right. 

Just  before  sunset  we  came  to  the  very  water  I  had  intended, 
in  the  morning,  to  reach,  which  was  in  a  nice,  grassy  vale  close 
by  a  large  cedar  grove,  and  on  looking  back  on  the  route  I 
designed  to  come,  we  saw,  on  a  point  of  the  mountain,  three 
smokes  near  to  each  other,  which  among  Indians  means  to 
rally  to  some  appointed  place.  We  all.  Gentiles  though  two 
of  the  company  were,  acknowledged  the  hand  of  God  in  guid- 
ing us,  as  we  thought,  the  wrong  way. 

Water,  grass  and  rest  our  animals  must  have  in  order  to 
carry  us  safely  through  the  night.  We  could  see  the  Indian 
smokes;  they  could  see  ours  and  very  likely  see  us.  We  must 
make  them  think  we  were  going  to  stay  all  night,  so  we  drove 
the  horses  away  from  camp  quite  a  distance  and  towards  the 
Indians,  gathered  a  good  lot  of  wood,  ate  supper  and  waited 
impatiently  for  the  mantle  of  night  to  be  thrown  over  our 
movements. 

As  soon  as  I  felt  sure  the  Indians'  keen  eyes  could  not  see 
our  moves  through  the  darkness,  two  men  ran  for  the  horses 
and  drove  them  around  so  the  fire  would  not  show  their  forms. 
The  other  two  men  carried  the  saddles  far  back  from  the  fire, 
where  we  hastily  saddled  and  left  the  horses  in  care  of  one 
man  while  the  other  three  went  to  the  fire,  put  on  all  the 
wood  and  lazily  passed  and  re-passed    between  the  distant 


A   TRIP  TO  CARSON  VALLEF.  97 

Indians  and  the  fire,  then  mounted  and  rode  with  good  speed 
froDQ  our  comfortable  fire  and  beautiful  Antelope  Spring. 
This  place  received  its  name,  Antelope  Spring,  as  follows:  On 
approaching  this  place,  as  we  went  west,  we  saw  a  drove  of 
antelope  feeding  just  in  the  edge  of  the  scattering  cedars,  and 
one  antelope  quite  a  little  behind  tie  rest,  which  one  of  our 
men  prepared  to  shoot;  but  all  the  animals  seeing  us  ran 
awa5\  The  one  behind  was  thrown  into  a  dreadful  fright, 
and  could  not  run  with  the  others  while  the  man  prepared  to 
shoot.  He  resolved  to  be  an  antelope  no  longer,  and  with 
magical  power  threw  ofi*  his  antelope  skin,  and  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye,  stood  up  a  tall  Indian  with  bow  and  arrows  in  hand. 
He  followed  us  to  camp  and  there  showed  us  all  about  the 
transformation. 

We  rode  all  night  as  fast  as  we  could  and  at  dawn  came 
into  a  little  gulch,  where  water  was  found.  Here  we  turned 
our  animals  loose  and  all  but  two  of  us  laid  down  and  slept 
until  sunrise.  That  morning  was  beautiful  to  us.  We  now 
felt  ourselves  out  of  danger  and  quietly  pursued  our  journey 
homeward,  without  any  other  important  event  occurring.  We 
reached  home  on  the  25th  of  November,  1854. 

This  was  an  important  event  to  us  and  our  families  and 
friends.  One  thing  that  made  it  more  important  to  my  wife 
and  relatives  was  a  report  from  a  man  who  undertook  to  over- 
take us  a  day  or  two  after  we  left  Salt  Lake  City  for  Carson. 
He  was  a  relic  of  the  army,  and  failing  to  overtake  us  as  soon 
as  he  expected,  became  faint-hearted  from  the  forbidding  and 
uninviting  surroundings  of  a  lone  man  among  Indians  and 
deserts,  and  turned  back.  He  arrived  safely  in  Salt  Lake  City 
and  undoubtedly  thought  himself  very  fortunate  in  so  doing; 
and  to  excuse  1  imself  beyond  the  possibility  of  reproach 
among  h's  associates,  he  made  up  an  inexcusable  falsehood 
and  told  that  he  came  to  the  place  where  the  Indians  had 
massacred  every  one  of  our  party.  The  deed  had  just  been 
done-  and  the  bodies  lay  mangled  and  stripped  of  clothing. 
He  was  obliged  to  make  a  hasty  retreat  to  avoid  being  discov- 
ered and  served  the  same. 


98  EVENTFUL  NARRATIVES. 

On  arriving  in  Salt  Lake  I  delivered  all  U  S.  property  in 
my  possession  to  Colonel  Steptoe  and  as  soon  as  possible  made 
my  official  report  in  writing  and  got  my  release.  In  my  report 
was  given  an  outline  of  the  road,  which,  however,  he  did  not 
think  practicable  for  his  army  in  the  following  Spring.  From 
my  journal  of  the  trip  and  the  map,  1  formed  what  was  called 
in  those  days  a  guide  book,  which  was  a  minute  account  o? 
the  road,  by  which  a  stranger  to  the  country  could  safely 
travel  it  without  danger  of  being  lost. 

Our  Delegate  to  Congress  then  was  acquainted  with  this 
book,  and  as  he  was  about  to  start  for  Washington  by  way  of 
San  Francisco,  he  offered  to  take  the  guide  book  and  if  he 
could  sell  it  to  Congress  he  would  give  me  half  the  proceeds. 
In  San  Francisco  he  was  offered  $1000  for  it,  but  would  not 
let  it  go  for  that  amount.  I  think  he  did  not  sell  it,  for  I 
never  received  any  money  for  it. 


a  O    T  O    T  H  K 

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